


You'll Always Be Mine

by Random_Inked_Thoughts



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Festivals, George doesn't know how to run a kingdom, Happy Ending, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, SBI? In my fanfiction?, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Slow Burn, it's more likely than you'd think, okay I think that's everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Inked_Thoughts/pseuds/Random_Inked_Thoughts
Summary: Previously "What Are We Doing?"George had been king for a total of two months, four days, and about six hours by now, and he still couldn’t pinpoint exactly how he felt about it. On one hand, the sudden and unexplainable death of his father was a possibly scarring and definitely horrifying event for most of the kingdom. On the other hand, George and his father had never exactly found one another on “good” terms, not since the death of his mother. George had been born and raised to inherit the throne when his father died, so acceptance of ruling wasn’t the issue either. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, why he felt so wrong sitting there behind his gilded gates, listening to his advisors squabble with one another over treaties and territories.-----In which George is an unwilling king, Dream and Sapnap are knights, and everyone feels a lot less safe in their kingdoms than they let on. Then again, the looming threat of a psychotic dictator bordering your territory tends to do that to a person. ft. festivals (the good kind!), people being jealous and dumb about their feelings, arranged marriage, plot and backstory no one asked for, and complete disregard for the canon of the SMP!
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 151
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I'd like to say a couple of important things right here! 
> 
> 1\. This is based off of RP characters in the Dream SMP, not actual people! I've had King/Knight AU brainrot and was wondering what could have been, and that inspired me to write this. That being said, if any of the content creators express any discomfort with this fic for any reason (not that I think anyone will find it lol) then I will take it down. 
> 
> 2\. I have done..... an ungodly amount of research for this thing, trying to decipher SMP lore. I did not have the pleasure of being a part of the fandom during the king drama, and so my research has been extensive but I have not gotten everything. That being said, I had initially wanted this to be extremely canon compliant. I have immediately scrapped that idea, and with that, huge chunks of lore. I tried to keep interpersonal relationships more or less the same as they are in the SMP, but there are some new kingdoms. You'll see what I mean. Try not to hate me for tearing the canon to shreds. :)

Anger was a good look on Dream. 

That was what George thought, staring down at the him from the top of the castle, twirling his crown absentmindedly around one finger and watching his personal guard bark orders to the other knights. 

George had been king for a total of two months, four days, and about six hours by now, and he still couldn’t pinpoint exactly how he felt about it. On one hand, the sudden and unexplainable death of his father was a possibly scarring and definitely horrifying event for most of the kingdom. On the other hand, George and his father had never exactly found one another on “good” terms, not since the death of his mother. George had been born and raised to inherit the throne when his father died, so acceptance of ruling wasn’t the issue either. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, why he felt so wrong sitting there behind his gilded gates, listening to his advisors squabble with one another over treaties and territories. He’d been doing this since he was young, the scene was a familiar one, if a bit boring. 

Sighing and relaxing his elbows against the stone rim of his balcony, George slouched and propped his head up with his left arm. A couple of bluebirds twittered around him nearby, and he smiled offhand at the soft noises. The light breeze ruffled his hair. 

Dream had been out there sparring all day. It might have something to do with all of the new recruits, fresh faced and unburdened by the weight of battle. Sapnap, the captain of their guard, had wanted Dream’s assistance with training them up. Looking down at Dream’s lithe movements, George couldn’t blame him. After all, there was no one out there better than Dream. 

Maybe the blonde could sense his gaze, but it was at exactly that moment that Dream whirled around, (always with that catlike grace) ripping off his helmet as he did so and making direct eye contact with George. There was a huge smile on his face, and he barked out another command to the knights behind him. His sea green eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, and George sat up as straight as a rod, dropping his crown with a small ‘eep!’. 

That just made the smirk on Dream’s face grow. George shrunk in on himself, wincing at the metallic clang of the crown hitting the pavement below him and spinning around, walking briskly into his room. Like hell he was going down there to get it after _that._

He sat at his desk and, with shaking fingers, began to pen a letter to their cook, inquiring as to what they would be serving for breakfast the next day. It was a pointless endeavor, seeing as he would find out in a couple of hours anyway, but the soothing act did something to calm his frazzled nerves. George had always liked writing letters. There was just something about the presentation of a well written letter that appealed to him. 

He had gotten as far as laying it aside for the ink to dry before the knock on the door interrupted him. Jumping slightly, he called out, “Come in!” and reached for a ribbon to tie the letter with. 

The door opened, and George looked over to see his personal guard leaning in the doorway, a shit eating grin on his face and a thin, golden crown dangling off of his pointer finger. 

“Ah, Dream,” George said, clearing his throat and standing to meet the other man’s eyes. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Strange,” Dream replied, sauntering into the room in that infuriatingly cocky way that he always did, “I could have sworn I saw you earlier.” 

George refused to let the light dusting of pink on his face distract him. With a small huff, he snatched his crown from Dream’s outstretched hand, nestling it back in his brown locks. “I’m surprised you could tear yourself away from the heat of battle,” he commented, sitting down on the corner of his bed and looking up at the other man. 

Dream let out a huff of his own at that. “Well, Sapnap did ask for my help training the new recruits,” he replied. “I just didn’t expect them to be so…” he trailed off, searching for the word.

“Incompetant?” George tried, but Dream just shook his head. 

“Passionate,” the blonde finally decided. “They’re rusty for sure, but they’ll get there,” he continued happily, and George marveled at the way the dying sunlight lit up his friend’s freckles for a second too long. “We all have to start somewhere. They’re a good group of kids.” Dream was the prettiest when he was like this, sincere and quiet and genuinely content. Dream was prettiest when he was pouring his heart out to George, when he didn’t bother to hide behind over the top teasing and a cocky grin. 

George grinned at that. “Well, we all have to start somewhere,” he replied. He himself knew his way around a blade, but he much preferred his crossbow in the event of any fighting. Better to resolve issues from a distance. He supposed that was where he and Dream differed- the other man loved to get all up close and personal and “I’m sure you weren’t any better when you started off.” 

Dream’s grin widened, and the moment was broken. “No way! You think I had to train to be the best? I’m all natural, baby, I was born like this!” 

George laughed at that, rolling his eyes. “Right, sure. I never said you were the best, Mr. ‘All Natural.’ You’d better not let us down at the Festival, then.” 

Dream sent him a winning grin, ruffling his dirty blonde hair. It glinted like spun gold in the low light. “Have I ever let you down?” 

“Every day of my life,” George promises him solemnly. “You’re the worst.” 

“Oh, shut up!” Dream walks over to him, shoving him playfully aside and flopping onto the bed next to him. “Move over, I’m tired.” 

George lets himself flop over, letting out a fake wounded noise. “My shoulder! Is that really any way to treat your king?” he asked Dream, clutching his shoulder in mock pain where Dream had touched him. 

Dream rolled his eyes, turning on the bed so he was now facing George. “You’re such a crybaby. I’ll kiss it better,” he replied dryly, leaning over and pressing his chapped lips to George’s shoulder before the brunette could even process what was happening. 

Where Dream’s lips touched him, he burned. 

“Dream!” George yanked himself back from the other boy, flushing a deep red. 

“What?” Dream’s voice sparkled with laughter at his outburst. “Oh my gosh, George, you’re so overdramatic. What is it?” 

Embarrassment flooded him, and George turned to face the wall stubbornly. “Nothing.” He sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose. “You smell, get off my bed.”

“Oh, _come on,”_ He could hear the grin in Dream’s voice. 

“No buts,” George said, in a tone that recommended Dream didn’t argue back, a tone he usually only saved for snobby nobles and stuck up advisors. “I don’t want you getting my sheets all sweaty and gross.” He finally looked back at his friend, which was decisively a mistake. Dream cocked one eyebrow at him, smirking. George just groaned again at the double entendre. “Get out.”

Dream was still laughing as he closed the door. 

George did his best to not bury his head in his silky pillowcase and scream. 

Dream and Sapnap made those kinds of jokes together all the time. Dream made those kinds of jokes all the time to him. He and Dream had been close for years, it was perfectly reasonable to joke about that kind of stuff. Dream had always been flirtatious, anyway. 

He’d known Dream since they were kids. 

George had to smile at the memories. He had met the other boy when he was thirteen and Dream was eleven. Now, at twenty one, he already felt like he’d known the green eyed man for a lifetime. 

_Dream had come to their castle at night on horseback, completely alone. George had already been left in his chambers, presumed asleep, but he had been up writing a note to Sapnap. He could get one of the servants to deliver it in the morning. The hustle and bustle of the castle waking back up had piqued his interest, and so he slipped out into the hallway and crept downstairs to see what was going on._

_There were so many people. Servants and nobles buzzed with conversation, and the air seemed electric and charged. Everyone was also in their nightclothes, which made for a strange picture. There was an air of unease about, an uncommon occurrence in the kingdom. The hairs on George’s arms raised slightly._

_Hiding behind a nearby tapestry, he saw one of the castle’s cooks ushering a small, blonde boy down the hall, his parents and a large number of other servants right on their heels. The cook was saying something, speaking too quickly and too low to be heard properly, and George’s dad’s face was buried in some sort of… note? The parchment was ripped and torn, and the red and black seal on the envelope was broken._

_George catches the eye of the boy as he passes, sucking in a harsh breath. Blood is caked down the side of the stranger’s face. He withdraws further behind the tapestry, putting a shaking finger to his lips._

_It’s hours before George gets up the courage to visit the strange boy, spending more time than he would like to admit pacing outside of the room they put him in. No one knew he was out of bed, but the longer he stood in this hallway, the greater the chance that any one of the numerous servants employed at the castle could happen upon him, and then he would really be in trouble. With one final exhale, he grabbed the knob and confidently walked into the room._

_It was dark. The shadows wrapped around everything, curling around the shapes of what appeared to be a bed, a dresser, and some sort of padded seat. George was blinking his eyes sleepily, trying to adjust to the low light, when he heard a shrill battle cry._

_“Ahhhh!” The cry spooked him, and there was a sharp pain on the side of his head, causing George to blurt out a word he really shouldn’t have known at that age, let alone said aloud. Staggering to the side, he caught himself on the rough stone wall._

_“Who are you?” the voice, which had to belong to the boy from earlier, demanded, cracking a little at the end of the sentence. “What are you doing?”_

_“What the hell? Why would you do that?” George shot back at him, wincing and rubbing the side of his head. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the wild eyed boy brandishing a candlestick threateningly at him._

_The other boy just let out a growl of a warning, raising the candlestick a little higher._

_“Okay, okay, jeez!” George put his hands up in surrender, wincing back from him. “I’m Prince George, don’t hit me again!”_

_There was a beat of silence. George did his best to squint through the darkness at the odd guest._

_“Dream.”_

_“I’m sorry?” George squinted up at him._

_“Dream,” the blonde repeated sheepishly, lowering his makeshift club. “It’s my name. Sorry for hitting you with a candlestick.”_

_“I’ll get over it. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dream,” George replied, smiling and sitting up straight like his lessons had taught him and smiling politely._

_Dream was silent for a minute. “I hit the prince with a candlestick.” He sounded slightly guilty, if slightly in awe as well._

_George cracked a grin at him. This boy was strange, and new, and he wanted to know everything there was to know about him. “You wouldn’t be the first.”_

_“Okay that is a story I’ve got to hear,” Dream told him, sliding down to sit cross legged on the floor. George mirrored him._

_“All in good time,” George shot back at him. He was positive Dream didn’t want to hear about Sapnap accidentally giving him a bloody lip while miming playing croquet. “I want to hear about you first.”_

_Dream bit his lip. “What do you want to know?”_

_“Who_ are _you?” George asked him, trying not to scrutinize him too harshly. “Why are you here?”_

_“My village was under attack, has been under attack,” Dream corrected himself. “My entire country has been under attack for a long… long time. Um, this time, my family got targeted, and it was bad.” Dream bit his lip. “They sent me away to keep me safe.”_

_Images of slumped figures danced behind George’s eyelids. Mortality was fascinating to the child. “Are they dead?” George breathed out, in that way that kids who could barely contain their fascination sometimes did._

_Dream looked uncomfortable. “Probably.”_

_That put a damper on the conversation for a moment. “Oh,” George responded, suddenly painfully aware of Dream’s discomfort. “Sorry.”_

_The other boy wrung the candlestick in his hands, giving him a half genuine smile. “It’s okay.”_

_“Is that why your head’s bleeding?” George asked him sympathetically. “The attack?”_

_Dream just nodded. “I got hit.”_

_“Is it going to scar?” George asked him, just to fill the silence. He knew it would._

_Dream nodded again._

_“Hey, you never know, maybe we’ll match,” George replied, touching the still slightly tender place on his head where Dream had hit him earlier._

_That at least brought a smile to the other boy’s face. “Oh, come on, I didn’t even hit you that hard!”_

_Relief flooded through him, but George just stuck out his tongue. “I don’t think you get to be the one to decide that, Dream!”_

_“What, are you really that fragile?” Dream teased him a little bit, tentatively. The tension in the air was fading._

_George wrinkled his nose. “I am not fragile!”_

_“Sure,” Dream responded, running his fingers through his hair. “Whatever you say, Prince George.” The two of them lapsed back into comfortable silence._

_Finally, George started to stand up._

_“Where are you going?” Dream asked him. He still hadn’t let go of the candlestick._

_George just rolled his eyes with a huff. “I snuck out of bed to figure out what was going on, if they find out I’m out of my room and talking to you, they’ll literally kill me.”_

_Dream bit his lip. George winced at his phrasing._

_“It was nice to meet you,” Dream finally said._

_“You too,” George replied awkwardly. He paused in the doorway. “Don’t tell my parents you’ve already met me tomorrow, okay?”_

_Dream’s head snapped up, and he met George’s eyes with an intense stare. “Tomorrow?”_

_“Of course!” George replied with a smile. “You’ll be staying with us now, I assume?” Then, he considered the fact that Dream might not be staying. Until that moment, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Unless… unless you would like to go.”_

_Dream shook his head hesitantly. “I’d like to stay here,” he whispered, like it was a confession._

_“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then!” George replied cheerfully. That settled it in his mind._

_“In the morning,” Dream repeated him with a little wave. It was oddly tentative._

_The next day, George walked downstairs to breakfast to find his parents sitting at the table already, Dream across from them._

_“Good morning, Sunshine!” His mother smiled at him, rising from the table and coming over to hug him. His dad stayed motionless at the table, fixated on his breakfast. He didn’t even look up._

_“Morning, Mum.” George smiled at her, before flicking his gaze over to where Dream sat, awkwardly chewing next to his father._

_His mother, ever so quick on the uptake, smiled. “Honey, this is Dream. He’ll be staying with us for a while.”_

_Dream gave him a small wave and a conspiring smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”_

_George grinned back just as widely, sliding into his seat. “Likewise.”_

Dream’s parents had been killed by Schlatt, a vicious dictator who had been making his way through L’Manberg, a bordering country to Traumreich. At the time, he and his cult-like following had been mostly going village to village to raid and plunder the inhabitants, but the night Dream’s parents were killed was Schlatt’s final and largest assault on the country, and the dictator slaughtered the entire royal family and assumed control. It was presumed that he and his followers had halved the remaining population of L’Manberg, and he had crowned himself king as the bloody sunset rose over the decimated kingdom. Changing the name to Manberg and immediately closing their borders to trade, Schlatt had effectively been holding the entire country hostage for nearly a decade now.

George frowned a bit, moving back to his balcony to breathe in the crisp night air. It was also because of Schlatt that Traumreich was preparing to host the Festival this year. The Festival, a yearly occurrence where knights from all the kingdoms could compete for honor and glory, used to be held in the neutral zone, a diamond of land bordered by not only Traumreich and Manberg, but the neighboring kingdoms of Pogtopia and Stolzshire as well. In fact, the only kingdom not bordering the neutral zone was the estranged Arctic Empire, a frigid island located just north of the continent, next to Stolzshire. Unfortunately, Schlatt had made it painfully clear that the neutral zone was no longer neutral, and none of George’s scouts had returned from it with their heads still attached to their shoulders. 

He was so consumed by his thoughts that he hardly noticed the door opening again. Bad’s voice took him by surprise. 

“My king.” 

He turned to look at one of his many advisors with a small smirk on his face. “Come on, there’s no need to call me by my formal title, Bad.” The words ‘ _I’ve hardly earned it’_ lay on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them down. 

“Very well. George.” Bad offered him a crisp smile. All of Bad’s smiles had been crisp since George had been crowned king. He supposed that was because he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “I came to update you on our preparations.” 

“Very well.” George motioned him to continue. 

“The cooks have prepared a list of ingredients they are lacking.” 

“Send out some men to gather them what they need, we’ll cover the cost as per usual and provide them with a small reward for their labor.” 

Bad nodded, squinting at the list in his little notebook, and George could feel relief shoot through him. At least he knew this part, he knew how to settle domestic affairs. 

“We have men who have decided that their pay is insignificant for the repair of the stadium, and have gone on strike.” 

George bit his lip. This one was a little trickier. The stadium was where most (never all) of the fighting at the Festival would occur, and it was vital that repairs were made before the start of the Festival. “Are there other men available for the job?” he asked. 

Bad made a ‘so so’ face. “We have been having issues finding proper workers lately. We can always search a couple of the towns on the outskirts. There are usually eager people looking for work there.”

“Good, do that and then get back to me if we still have an issue,” George replied. “Is that all?” 

Bad shook his head. “With all of the new knights, we are experiencing an armor shortage for the first time in a long while. I’m assuming you want them all outfitted in time for the Festival?”

_No, I want them all outfitted in time for whenever Schlatt decides he’s done playing nice and fooling around in the neutral zone and starts attacking my people instead._

“That would be preferable,” George agreed, face betraying nothing. “Do we have the funds to cover the cost?” 

“I’ll look into it,” Bad replied. 

“Thanks, you’re the best,” George replied, meaning it. He laughed a little at Bad’s tense posture. The other man never liked leaving things unfinished. “Don’t worry! How long do we have until the Festival?” 

Bad looked back to his notebook to check, despite probably already knowing the date by heart. “A week and a half.”

George clapped his hands together. “Perfect! We have plenty of time. We can address any other concerns that come up tomorrow, okay?”

Bad nods stiffly. “As you wish.” 

As the door closes behind him, George lets out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in, plucking the crown from his head once more and staring at it. The rubies and sapphires seem to glint mockingly at him as he turns it in his hands. 

“What am I doing?” he mutters to the universe. 

He doesn’t get a response. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm back! :D Starting off a new work is always a bit slow at first, but I've been so desperate to write this out that I decided why not post it a day after the first chapter! (I won't be able to keep this exact upload schedule, but I'll do my best to get at least a chapter every 2-3 days at most!) That all being said, I'd like to give everyone who either clicked on, kudosed, or commented on this fic (you two own my entire heart rn <3) for being so amazing. Enjoy these boys being idiots!

In George’s humble opinion, the worst part about the throne was the back pain. Stretching, all catlike, he barely stifled a yawn. Standing just off to his right, Dream was smirking behind his helmet, he could feel it. 

With a small, grumpy frown, George turned back to the villager in front of him, an older man with a patchy beard and no hair atop his head. He was clothed in a threadbare shirt and loose fitting pants, and he held a walking cane in his shaky left hand. 

He looked so out of place among the golds and blues of the palace. The height of the ceilings seemed to make him even smaller, so insignificant and powerless. George hated that, he didn’t like the idea that he was worth any more than any of his subjects, just because he had been born into riches. 

Usually, George loved meeting with his subjects; it was his favorite part about being king. But today, everyone was just pissing him off. Rubbing his temples and letting out a slight groan, he allowed his posture to slip. “So,” he said, voice echoing in the near empty room, “you’re telling me that your chickens were killed by…?” 

“My neighbor’s fox, my king!” The old man had been one of many in a long line of relentless complainers for almost a month now. As soon as the people realized the new king may be more lenient with gifting money and other valuables if they spun him their tales of woe, they had flocked in droves to the palace in hopes of meeting with him. George was beginning to see why his father never agreed to meet with his subjects. 

“And this fox belongs to your neighbor?” he clarified, seeing the barely perceivable shaking of Dream’s shoulders out of the corner of his eyes. Laughter. _Prick._ Dream was enjoying his suffering. 

The hopeful grin on the villager’s face flickered slightly. “Well, no… my king.” 

George knew this. No one could own foxes. He reigned himself in with a polite smile and a mask of his own. “Then please, explain to me how the death of your chickens falls on your neighbor’s hands.”

“Those chickens were everything to me!” the man cries. “That damned fool next to me was feeding the foxes to keep them away from his own animals, and when he ran out of food for them, he drove them into my yard!” 

  
It was really taking all of his patience to get through this today, huh? “Can you provide us with any evidence to back up that claim?” George asked him. 

“I’m sorry?” the man asked him. 

“Can you prove he did it maliciously?” George gritted out. 

The man in front of him opened his mouth, closed it. His silence seemed to stretch to fill the empty space of the hall. Finally, bleakly, he shook his head. 

George nodded slowly. Waving off to the side where Skeppy, the advisor in charge of the castle’s treasury, sat, he called out, “Give him some gold for his troubles and send him on his way.” 

As the man was led off and the next took a cautious step forward, Dream walked forward as well to meet them in the middle. George watched him with curious eyes. 

“That’s all for today, thank you.” Dream’s voice was deep and powerful, nothing like George’s. Dream sounded like he was meant to have been a king, his tone left no room for argument. “The king will not be seeing any more of you, leave.” 

“Dream,” George murmured, moving to stand behind his guard as the crowd in front of them dissipated, “What are you doing?” 

“You need a vacation,” Dream declared, turning back to him and pulling off his helmet. And just like that, he was no longer the personal guard to the most powerful royalty in the nearby area, he was George’s best friend, haloed by sunlight and positively glowing with excitement. Dream was _breathtaking._

“I- Dream, I can’t,” George laughed as Dream took his hand and tugged him along, “Dream! I can’t just abandon my people! I have a kingdom to run!” 

“Oh, come on, how much were you actually going to do anyway?” Dream asked him, and sure, those words stung a little, but George let himself be tugged along anyway with another soft laugh, shaking his head slightly. Bad watched them go with pursed lips. 

Dream led him to the stables, whispering, “Quickly, quickly, shh!” at George’s giggling. 

“Are you-” George had to stop to catch his breath for a moment, “Are you smuggling me out of the castle?” 

“Yup!” Dream declared. “You need this, trust me.” 

_“Dream,”_ George said with a giggle, trying again, “You can’t just take me away, I have things to do!” 

“Watch me,” was the only response he got. 

Dream’s fingers were nimble as he unlocked Spirit’s gate, quickly leading them out of their stall. They whinnied appreciatively as he patted the side of their flank, saddling them up in record time. He offered a hand down to George as soon as he’d hopped on. 

“Oh, I thought we’d be taking different horses,” George bit his lip. 

“I can’t saddle up both Daisy and Spirit in time,” Dream replied with a grin. “Bad or someone is going to come looking for you. Come on, I’ll keep you safe.” 

George didn’t doubt that for a second. He took the hand offered and jumped up. Dream’s hands ghosted around his waist, adjusting him, before he took up the reins. One flick and they were off, George pressing back into Dream’s chest as they rode. He blamed the sudden boost of speed and inertia at work. 

Because of their height difference, Dream could see right over the top of his head, something that he surprisingly neglected to bring up. Instead, the two of them rode in silence for a while, taking in the greenery and the landscape around them. George did have to admit, the buzzing in his head faded slightly as they left civilization. Trees rustled softly in the light summer wind, and the steady thrum of Spirit’s hooves seemed to echo around them. 

They passed mountains and hills, houses and smaller towns which Dream steered clear of at George’s request, before plunging into the undergrowth of the forest. Spirit was the only living thing in the castle that had been a part of Dream’s life for longer than George had. He smiled a bit at that. They had been restless the first few nights after Dream began staying in Traumreich, alone in the stables, until Dream himself had come to visit them. 

They were trotting slowly through the forest when George really did let out a sigh, relaxing fully against Dream’s chest and looking up at the blonde with a soft smile. “I do have to go back soon,” he whispered regretfully. 

Dream looked down at him with a soft frown. “But you’ve only just relaxed,” he replied. “I think Traumreich can last a little longer without their king.” 

George said nothing, looking back around them instead with a softer, more content sigh. _Thank you._

  
Dream seemed to know what he meant. He squeezed George’s upper arm before speaking again. “Come on, at least let me show you the new place I found!” 

He had to chuckle at that. Dream was always discovering new and more secluded places in Traumreich’s wild and vast forests, and when George was lucky, he would take him back to them. “Is it another empty field?” he teased Dream good naturedly, and was rewarded with a pinch on his cheek. 

“Hey!” He couldn’t exactly look back and see, but he could envision Dream’s face flushing bright red with embarrassed color. “I swear, there was a huge circle of stones there when I went! I saw it myself!” He let out a low groan at George’s laughing. “That was one time!” 

“Yeah, okay sure, whatever you say. Stones don’t just disappear, Dream.” He rolled his eyes. 

Dream’s grins were infectious, but George’s laughter was just as dangerous. Soon, the both of them were giggling softly, laughing together instead of at anything or anyone in particular.

“You’re such an idiot,” Dream muttered to him, voice soft and deep and incredibly _fond._

George just hummed against him. 

They trotted into a clearing, a break in the trees, and George sucked in a quiet breath. “Oh.” 

They had reached the bottom of a cliff, towering far above their heads and all but blocking out the sun. If it hadn’t been high noon, it probably would have. But that wasn’t anywhere near as incredible as the bright cascade of water rushing from the cliff to the lake down below. The sunlight stained it golden yellow, and George could make out little fish swimming through the crystal clear water. The sand beneath it was bone white. 

It was like something out of a dream. 

“So?” Dream’s voice tickled his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “Better than an empty field?” 

George could just barely nod, sliding off of Spirit and walking closer to the waterfall. Up close like this it was almost deafening, the crashing of waves off of the rocks down below mixed with the soft trickling of the pond. 

Dream was by his side in a second, grinning proudly, a look in his eye that George couldn’t quite place. _You always do this,_ he thought, _how do you always do this?_

Maybe it was just something about Dream, something ingrained in the other boy’s bones. Maybe it was his passion, his confidence, his empathy. Maybe it was the little things, the grand gestures wrapped up and masked as second nature. Maybe it was his freedom to just _be,_ but there wasn’t anyone in the world at that very moment even half as attractive as Dream. George had to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat. 

Dream was still grinning that stupid grin at him, and George wanted nothing more than to kiss that stupid grin off of his face until they both forgot about everything, George’s kingly duties, Dream’s sworn loyalty to the throne, Schlatt, the Festival, the entire continent. Dream had sworn his loyalty to the throne, but some selfish, irrational part of George wanted that loyalty sworn to him and him alone, no strings attached. 

He couldn’t help but get lost in the blonde’s eyes, swimming until he felt himself slip under and begin to drown. He would let himself drown in a heartbeat, just to stay with Dream. George took in a rattling, shaky breath, flicking his eyes from Dream’s lips and then back up. 

Dream’s arms snaked around his waist again, pulling his closer, and George made no comment as he allowed himself to be tugged towards the other boy. His heart was pounding out of his chest. Neither of them said anything more as they stared at one another, all but ignoring the sparkling sight in front of them. Off to the side, Spirit was drinking from the edge of the pond. George wanted to keep this moment forever, wrapping it up and tucking it away for him and Dream. 

He was still staring at his lips. George licked them nervously, barely breathing as Dream moved ever so slowly closer. 

Flashes of another life danced behind his eyes, foolish hopes and childish dreams. They could live in a cabin in the woods, nothing but him and Dream and the sound of running water. They could spend all day like this, then get up and do it all over again. Dream knew how to hunt and cook, and George… well, he couldn’t do much, but he did know how to hunt too. He could always take some time and learn to clean. Honestly, he didn’t care what he had to learn, he would do it if he needed to. 

It was intoxicating being in this proximity with Dream. The other man was just a little bit too close for comfort but still too far to give George what he really wanted. He had to dig his nails into his palms to keep himself from reaching out and _grabbing._ When he released his own skin, there were little crescent moons indented into his palm.

_What is happening?_ George thought, as Dream made a move to close the distance between them. 

“George! Dream!” 

The two of them jumped apart like they’d been burnt, whirling around to find Sapnap at the entrance to the clearing, riding his own horse. His gaze was a mix of relieved, confused, and lovingly disappointed. 

“Sapnap!” George shot him a little wave and chuckled nervously. _So much for ‘just me and Dream’._ His head felt fuzzy, and his knees were wobbling slightly. 

“Dude!” Sapnap dismounted, frown developing as he put his hands on his hips. “Do you guys know how long you’ve been out here for?” 

Dream wasn’t making eye contact. His face was bright red. After a slightly awkward moment, George shrugged. 

“Enlighten us, please,” Dream replied with a nervous laugh, running his fingers through his hair. A hint of pink still tinted his ears and the tip of his nose. 

“You guys have been gone for ages! Bad sent me out here to find you guys, and you’re damn glad he did! Pogtopia has sent a small travel party ahead of the rest of their competing champions and spectators!” 

George’s insides were still spinning, still a little drunk on Dream’s proximity and the crash back into the real world. “What?” His waist still tingled with a phantom touch. _But the other kingdoms aren’t supposed to arrive for another week, at least._

“Queen Niki is here, right now! And she’s early, for some reason!” 

George could feel his face pale. 

Sapnap was still talking, rambling on. “Come on, come on, come on, we can’t waste another second! You’re lucky Dream showed me this place the other day, or we might not have found you guys in time.” 

George shot a glance back at Dream as he heard that. “You showed him before me?” He couldn’t quite keep the disappointment from his voice, and it tinged his words with poison. _Stupid,_ his brain repremanded him. _Don’t be dumb._

Dream hesitated for a second. Then he straightened, giving George one of his usual lopsided grins and making eye contact like… whatever had just happened hadn’t happened at all. “Yeah, he and I wanted to train and I figured the open space would be good.” 

“Right.” George nodded slowly, confusion welling up inside of him. Dream didn’t say anything else, but the red was almost completely faded from his face, and he was very pointedly looking around the clearing in a normal way. The two of them lapsed into silence. 

In front of them, completely obscured, Sapnap rolled his eyes. “Right, let’s get this show on the road.” He mounted his horse, and Dream mirrored him, hopping onto Spirit’s back. George hesitated before scrambling up only a second later, ignoring Dream’s casual hand and squirming to situate himself. _What the hell just happened?_

The ride back was much less peaceful than the ride there. Perhaps it was the effect of the sun setting, perhaps it was how drained George suddenly felt. He was hyper aware of every movement Dream made behind him, and he did his best to focus on the passing scenery, counting turtle doves. Was it just him, or did the grass seem a little less green?

Dream and Sapnap struck up a painfully normal conversation about the new trainees, and how that was going. George listened and chimed in when appropriate, but mostly he just sat and mentally replayed the events from the clearing over and over and over. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how they expect us to train them all up before the festival,” Sapnap said with an overdramatic sigh. “I mean, I’m good, but I’m not _that_ good.” 

Dream let out a small wheeze. “I’m sure you’ll find some way to manage.” 

“But it’s just so _much,”_ Sapnap groaned, “And they’re all so fucking slow on the uptake sometimes.” 

“As long as you’re encouraging, I’m sure that’s all that matters,” Dream replied. “They’ll get there.” 

“Before the festival?” Sapnap muttered. “You are far more optimistic than I ever gave you credit for.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Dream shot back with a grin. 

“No, really,” Sapnap continued, a predatory grin making itself at home on his face. “A couple of months ago you would have been lamenting this situation right alongside me, what changed?” His voice hinted at something that George wasn’t privy to, clearly, judging by the look Dream shot him. 

_My father died,_ George thought. Awfully macabre, but accurate. 

Dream muttered something for a couple of seconds, finally shrugging. “Just had a change of heart, I guess. Can’t help it if you’re still a Grumpy Gus.” 

“Dude, you’re literally the worst.”

“How can I be the worst? George is right here!”

“Oh, don’t bring me into this!” And then George was grinning tentatively, and everything was as close back to normal as it could be, the three of them bickering lightheartedly the rest of the way home.  
  
As they trotted through the gates of Traumreich, the mood shift was immediate and intense. Dream’s hands found their way back to George’s waist as they slowed to a stop, tightening protectively. George did his best not to focus on it. Part of him wanted to smack Dream’s hands off of him. The other part of him wanted to curl in on himself and scream until his voice dissapeared. 

Queen Niki of Pogtopia stood in the middle of their village center, a bedazzled crown on her head and a long, sea green cloak covering her shoulders. Her head was raised high, and her eyeliner was applied in a perfect line. To her right stood Wilbur, her personal guard, who towered over the small queen with almost an extra foot on her. Despite that, Niki radiated power. 

As soon as she locked eyes on George, her shoulders seemed to deflate slightly, and a relieved smile crossed her face. “George!” she called across the clearing, walking forward to meet him. 

“Hello, Niki,” George replied with a small smile of his own, sliding out of Dream’s arms and onto the ground. He met her in the middle as she embraced him. 

Somewhere behind him, Dream’s grip on his sword tightened. Sapnap shot him an unimpressed look. 

“George,” Niki repeated, now grinning. “It’s good to see you.” Her voice lowered, so quiet that only he could hear her. “We need to talk.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited, I have so much planned for this thing and I hope you're all enjoying it! :D
> 
> (also no I did not name george's country after the german words for dream and kingdom why do you ask that would be really dumb of me to do that)
> 
> oh!! I took George's horse's name from another DNF fic, "Protected" by Aenqa. It's incredible, and if by some chance you haven't read it yet, I would highly recommend it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one chapter a day we're somehow keeping this streak alive, get ready for the chapter I learn how to write Dream Team SMP Character Interactions in
> 
> (I haven't gone to sleep yet so shhh it still counts)

“Right, of course.” George’s brow furrowed in concern. “Um, please, let’s discuss this inside.” He was entirely too aware of the gazes from his subjects, their stares prickling at the back of his neck. “Away from… prying eyes.”   
  
Niki nodded. “That would be perfect, thank you.” 

George inclined his head in her direction, beckoning for Dream and Sapnap to follow him. His advisors would fall into line as well, as would the rest of his neighboring queen’s small party. That was something he didn’t ever think he would get used to, the people following him around without a second thought. It was kind of creepy.

As soon as they closed the doors to the castle’s war room, George let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. Around him, everyone else seemed to do the same. While they weren’t technically at war at the moment, it was probably the best place to house all of the company, considering the giant table in the middle of the room. 

“Alright!” George clasped his hands together, taking his place at the head of the table. Dream came to a stop standing behind him, George’s faceless, motionless shadow. Slowly, his advisors took seats to his left and right, Skeppy and Bad and a couple of other high ranking men and women. 

Niki mirrored his actions at the other end of the table. Her party was small, nothing more than herself, Wilbur, and three others. Tommy and Tubbo he recognized, extraordinary young but skilled knights who cared about each other more than anything, possibly even more than their fealty to the crown. You’d be hard pressed to find one without the other, and the two bickered and joked like brothers. Most people assumed they were. The young boys had been trainees last time George had seen them, when he’d travelled to Pogtopia for last year’s festival. They were seventeen now, and while their faces had slimmed with age, the hard year clearly hadn’t taken a toll on their personalities in the slightest. 

“Hey there, Dream,” Tommy called across the room, wiggling his bandaged fingers cockily at the other man and letting a sharp grin cross his face. Tommy was always wearing some kind of bandage or wrap, the kid was always bruised and cut, whether it be from training, picking fights he wasn’t supposed to, or just plain clumsiness. 

“Tommy,” Dream replied, with a sort of resigned amusement. The younger boy had been rearing to fight Dream for as long as he’d known him, and everyone knew it. Dream always shook him off with muttering about not wanting child killing on his record, but that had only made the young boy more determined to prove himself. 

“This year, in the Festival, we’re gonna fight,” Tommy promised him with a grin. “You can’t just say no to me now! I’m going to kick your arse, big man!” 

George suspected that even though both Tommy and Tubbo were eligible to compete in the festival, only Tommy would actually be making the most of that. 

“You’ll have to actually make it to me first,” Dream reminded him playfully, reminding him of the bracket system. “Newbies always have it the hardest.” 

“I’ll make it to you,” Tommy replied, with the kind of confidence that only Tommy could possess. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, then.” Dream was smiling behind his helmet. 

Tubbo just gave them all a short wave and a smile. 

“Who’s your third?” George nodded at the man taking a seat by Niki. He was tall and skinny and he looked a little uncomfortable. 

“This is Jack Manifold, he’s one of my advisors.” Niki smiled reassuringly at the other man, before turning her attention back to George. “The rest of my advisors will be arriving on schedule, I apologize for the early intrusion. We assumed that a small party would be best.”

George nodded. Travel among Pogtopia’s cliffs and caves was dangerous on a good day, and large parties usually took twice as long to arrive at their destinations. “It’s no concern,” he replied, voice smooth. “Though it’s always a delight to see you, you understand I must inquire as to why you’ve made the choice to arrive ahead of schedule.” 

“To expect any different would have been foolish of me,” Niki replied. “My kingdom has been having some troubles lately.”

“Monetary?” George cut in incredulously, even though it was a breach in etiquette. He could see Bad tense nervously as he interrupted the queen. 

Niki quickly shook her head. “Not money. Schlatt.” 

The air in the room seemed to chill. Everyone stiffened in their seats, and uneasy glances were exchanged between Pogtopians and Traumreichians alike. _I’m so glad that this is what can unite us,_ George thought dryly. 

Niki continued into the silence. “Schlatt had, up until very recently, been leaving my country alone. Our army is not as strong as some, so we were grateful that he had decided to focus his efforts elsewhere. However, as of late, Schlatt has been targeting my citizens and traders. Our ports have received no trade in the last four months, and any emissaries we send out do not return.”

There were sympathetic murmurs all around. Niki leveled her gaze on George and waited until they were done to continue. 

“We could not find anything out about Stolzshire, but they are not nearly powerful enough to put up a fight against a tyrant like Schlatt.” Niki’s voice had not wavered until now, but as she spoke again, her eyes flicked down to look at the table. “Almost a month ago now, Schlatt sent his executioner to deliver me a terrible message.” She hesitated. “My people are in danger, George. That is the reason for my early arrival.”

George chewed on his lip nervously, a bad habit and a tell that he wasn’t sure what to do. 

On one hand, he’d like nothing more than to help Niki. The two of them had grown up seeing one another on and off, meeting up at festivals and other royal banquets. She was what he would dub a hesitant friend, if one he hadn’t seen in a while. 

On the other hand, even with their new recruits, Traumreich didn’t have the knights to spare. There was no way they could present a show of strength against Schlatt on Pogtopia’s behalf without leaving their own country completely undefended. George was a pretty shit king, but he knew better than to do something like that. He wasn’t completely incompetant. 

Jack cleared his throat, and all eyes in the room turned to him. He looked to Niki for permission to speak, and then to George with a slightly bashful expression. 

“Go on,” George said. 

“There is a solution to this problem, King George,” Jack said cautiously, like he was treading water surrounded by bloodthirsty sharks. One slip up and he was toast. “I would not have come before you today if this were not a matter of life or death for our citizens. If we were to combine Pogtopia’s and Traumreich’s military through an alliance, the combined show of force could cause Schlatt to back off from our citizens.”

“We’re not wasting our knights for your cause,” Bad cut in rudely, from his seat on George’s left. His tone was unexpectedly biting. “Traumreich has our own people to worry about. Who’s to say Schlatt won’t just turn around and go after us?” 

Jack Manifold was shaking his head, a little bolder when speaking with a fellow advisor, as opposed to directly to the king. “I’m extending an offer for a _traditional alliance,_ one that both parties would benefit from for a very long time. Traumreich would provide their military strength to bolster our own, and Pogtopia would add a hefty sum to the treasury. Of course, with things like those combined, trade would be more fair and universalized, and no other kingdom would be able to even come close to our combined strength.” Jack looked hesitant, and Niki looked grim. 

Something was off. George could feel it in his stomach. It was something about the careful way that Jack said ‘traditional alliance,’ like a part of him worried the weight of his words would be too heavy for George to bear. After all, he already ached with the phantom weight of his crown.

Bad looked genuinely intrigued at that. “It would certainly be a benefit to us,” he agreed. Next to him, Skeppy was nodding along. “And Schlatt would certainly back off if we agree to this.” 

“Perhaps we could even attack,” Wilbur chimed in, a sparkle in his eye. “Press the advantage. We would certainly have the numbers.” Wilbur wasn’t like Dream. He was Niki’s personal guard, yes, but he was also the captain of their guard. Dream had seen him take out sknight after knight in festivals past without breaking a sweat. That man was practically a force of nature. 

All of his advisors were nodding along now. George was unsurprised that they had already made the decision for him. 

Jack looked relieved. “Perfect. I’m sure that both of our kingdoms will find this to be a lucrative agreement.”

“Then that settles it,” Bad said, already pulling out something to write their conversation down. “We will hash out the details of the agreement as quickly as possible. Is there anything in particular we should start with?” 

“Well,” Skeppy offered, “there is the concern of the wedding date…” 

George’s head snapped up. “The _what?”_

\-----

He was skipping rocks. It hadn’t taken much more time for the meeting to come to a close, his advisors talking amongst themselves and mostly ignoring his existence as they finalized things with Niki and her small party. George had bid them a good day with a strangled smile, and asked a servant to show the Pogtopians to their guest quarters, mentally thanking Bad for having the foresight to prepare the guest quarters early. 

He’d dismissed everyone, even Dream, to spend some time alone. This was why it was so irritating that Sapnap decided it was a great time to have a heart to heart. 

“What part of ‘let me have some time to myself’ don’t you understand?” he grumbled as the younger boy sat down next to him, picking up a flat stone from the pile and turning it in his calloused hands. 

Sapnap just scoffed. “Oh, please, I know you too well for that. You can’t get it through your thick skull yet, but you want to talk about this. Trust me.” 

“No,” George replied, like a petulant child. 

“Sorry, I’m not taking no for an answer. Come on, talk to Sapnap.” The other boy rolled his eyes when George said nothing in response, staring pointedly ahead at the water. “Asshole.” 

“You’d think someone in your position would be a little nicer to their king,” George muttered, offhand. He cast a stone into the pond, watching the ripples as it skipped. 

“Oh I _know_ you did not just pull rank on me,” Sapnap replied. “I don’t care if you’re God, you’re always going to be George to me.”

George wrinkled his nose. “I wish I was just George to everyone.” 

“What, so you didn’t have to marry the hot queen of a neighboring kingdom?” Sapnap replied. His stone skipped almost double what George’s had. 

“Objectification of women. Not very pog.” 

Sapnap rolled his eyes, punching George’s shoulder lightly. “You know what I mean, dude. I’ve known Niki almost as long as you have. She’s probably the best person you could have ended up with, all things considered.” 

_She’s the best person I could have_ realistically _ended up with,_ George’s brain corrected him. He just sighed. “It’s not that Niki’s not nice…” He shrugged. “I knew from the start that something like this was bound to happen eventually and I still don’t like it.” 

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think she likes it either,” Sapnap replied. “She sees you like a little brother, or maybe just like that really annoying three year old she has to babysit every Friday-” George flipped him off, “-but she’d do anything for her people, you know that.”

“And I’m happy to help her,” George replied, monotone. He winced at how lifeless that came out. He could hear his mother’s words bouncing around his head. 

_Once more, with feeling! The people need to know that you care!_

_But what if I don’t care? George had asked her, young and confused, but she just cupped his face in her hands and chuckled._

_Then that’s the time they need to know you care the most, Sunshine._

“Oh yeah, you’re the picture of joy.” Sapnap rolled his eyes. “I know it’s a shitty situation, trust me, but it’s the best thing you could have done.” 

“But I didn’t do it, did I?” George replied, finally reaching the root of the problem. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried to make sure it didn’t come across. 

Sapnap's tone became guarded. He had yet to throw another stone, instead turning the rock in his hands over and over and over. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, dude.” 

“I didn’t do it, I didn’t make that decision.” George’s next stone sank on the first skip. “Maybe I would feel a little better about this if I had made any decisions at all as king.” 

“You have made decisions as king,” Sapnap protested, but George was already shaking his head. 

“No, Bad has made decisions as king. I’ve tiptoed around and kept to myself and tried not to get involved. I might as well just put him on the throne and be done with it. I know everyone here hates me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Sapnap sounded a little sad at that. 

George sighed, slouching down and propping his head up on one hand. “I wasn’t talking about you, but thanks I guess. I just wish I felt like I knew what I was supposed to be doing.”

“Hey.” He looked over at Sapnap, who was staring into his eyes with a burning passion. “You could be the shittiest king in the world, and I would still want to stand by your side.” 

He cracked a small smile at that. That was one of the best things about Sapnap, once he had found his people, he was unfalteringly loyal and protective of them. It was part of what made him such a good choice to command Traumreich’s army. “You might not be saying that after you see just how badly I can mess up,” he just replied. 

“Oh trust me, I’ve already seen it,” Sapnap replied, waving off his concerns with a laugh. “If I haven’t run for the hills by now, I’m not running.” 

There was a moment of silence. “Thanks,” George whispered, voice uncharacteristically sincere. 

“Of course, dude, I’m always here for you. Me and Dream both.” Sapnap wiggled his eyebrows as he said Dream’s name.

_And there it is._

George just groaned and fully buried his face in his hands at that. “Don’t even.” 

Now Sapnap was laughing, the tone of the conversation shifting into something more playful, more familiar. “What? I saw you two in the clearing. Don’t try to deny- why are you hitting me?” He shoved George away from him, grinning ear to ear. “Stop it!” 

“No, you stop it!” George continued his weak hits to Sapnap’s chest, content in the knowledge that while he may not actually be hurting the other boy, he was certainly being a major pain in the ass. 

“You stop it first!” 

So they acted like two year olds sometimes. What could George say? Sapnap just brought out the worst in him. 

“What is the deal with you two anyway?” Sapnap finally asked him, when George had given up on his weak harassment. 

George avoided eye contact like the shifty little motherfucker that he was. “What thing? There’s no thing.” 

“Do not even _try_ that with me,” Sapnap snorted. “I’ve third wheeled through enough long walks in the forest I could probably write a novel about it and still have stories left over. I’m like a professional third wheeler at this point! Maybe that’s what I should compete in this year during the festival: third wheeling. I’d win first place!”

“Okay okay, I get it, shut up!” George’s face was turning red. 

“Oh, you get it, do you?” 

“I get that you’re a little baby who can’t handle not being the center of attention,” George deflected. “I’ll tell Dream we need to pay more attention to you.” 

Sapnap hissed out something along the lines of _you’ll pay for that one,_ and that was the last thing George heard before he was practically hip checked and suddenly floundering in the freezing pond. Water went up his nose and he was laughing hard enough to get a side sticker, but it was worth it. He’d successfully pushed that conversation back to deal with another day. Suck it, future George. It was his problem now. 

He and Sapnap were both shivering and cold as they walked back into the castle, hair plastered to their foreheads and their clothing sticking flush to their bodies. 

Dream‘s eyes widened for a second when he saw them, before the snickering started. 

“Oh boy, here it comes,” Sapnap murmured, as Dream’s snickering developed into cackles, which developed into one long, extended wheeze. 

“You two look like wet dogs!” Dream managed to exclaim through his laughter. George pouted at him, but the other boy just wheezed even harder at that. “What did you even do?”

“Sapnap pushed me into the pond!” George accused, unable to keep the whine out of his voice completely.

“Oh my _god,_ you were literally being such an ass!” Sapnap crossed his arms, but he was grinning. “You can’t tell me you didn’t deserve it.” 

“I could have you thrown in jail! Assaulting the king!” George shot back.

“Yeah right, you would never. Wuss.” 

“I am not a wuss! I would!” 

“I’m the best knight you’ve got!” Sapnap declared, puffing out his chest. “You can’t throw your best knight in jail!”

“Uh, excuse you,” Dream butted into the conversation, gesturing to himself. “I’m right here.” 

“No. No way, dude.” Sapnap was already shaking his head. 

“Yes, way. Dude.” 

“I could take you in a fight any day.” 

“Pfft, like you could even get close to beating me!” 

Sapnap turned to face George, who was often the tiebreaker in these types of scenarios. “George,” he demanded. “Who’s better? Me, or Dream?” 

But George was already laughing and shaking his head, putting his hands up in the air defensively. “No way, I want no part of this. I’m not gonna choose.” 

“Actually,” Dream slipped in, a devious grin beginning to cross his face, “I think that George _has_ already chosen the person he finds better.” 

“Huh?” George and Sapnap’s voices overlapped slightly. 

“Well,” Dream drawled slightly, leaning back and smirking, “Which one of us is George’s personal guard, and which one of us… isn’t?” 

Sapnap was already protesting. “That’s no fair, dude, George chose his personal guard when he was like, fourteen or whatever. No one makes good decisions at fourteen!” 

Dream opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Sapnap actually had a pretty decent point there. “Whatever,” he replied with confidence, “it doesn’t change the fact that George loves me more!” 

“Hey now, when did this become about me?” George muttered, but Dream was already pulling him into an overexaggerated hug. If George’s entire body didn’t feel like he’d struck a match and lit it on fire, he might have actually stopped and taken the time to enjoy it. 

Dream was swaying from side to side in gentle exaggeration, pulling George, who was tucked into his chest, back and forth with him. George ignored the way he tucked so perfectly under Dream’s chin. 

“He loves me more, he loves me more than you!” Dream’s voice was sing-songy and childish. 

“I do _not,_ get off of me you... you oaf!” George shoved himself away from Dream, positive that the tips of his ears were a bright, flaming red. 

Dream just laughed again, letting him go like it was the easiest thing in the world for him. George’s heart hurt. 

“Whatever. This proves nothing. I stand by what I said,” Sapnap said, crossing his arms. 

“Would you bet money on it?” Dream asked him, suddenly very quiet. 

Sapnap tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “Of course I would. Why?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are AMAZING I didn't expect so many sweet comments when I woke up today and honestly, you all make my day <3
> 
> also quick note- I know the "extra" person in the arranged marriage (at least from my experience in this trope) is usually depicted as kinda scummy or just wanting to steal main half of ship #1 away from their partner, but I just want it on record that this will not be the case here! I absolutely love Niki and my choice to make her queen here was simply because I wanted her to have a big role cause I adore her :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, hearing that Bad's character on the SMP is getting his villain arc/corruption arc: pog  
> Also me, struggling to write Bad because I haven't had the time to tune in and actually find out what he sounds like as a villain: un-pog
> 
> I cover all of my mistakes by reminding you that I have absolutely shredded the characters in canon for my own benefit <3

George’s friends were idiots and if he didn’t die out here, standing in this field, then he was going to  _ kill  _ them for this. But then again, he was the one who had let them drag him out here, so who was the real idiot?

Shivering slightly as the rain poured down harder, George wrapped his cloak a little tighter around himself and tried to think warm thoughts. 

_ The beach in summertime, sitting in front of the fireplace, hugs from Dream… _

The wind buffeted at his makeshift shield and chills wracked his body. Nope, still cold. 

Dream and Sapnap were, unsurprisingly, unaffected. The two of them stood there, facing each other and grinning like maniacs in the middle of the downpour, swords clutched in their hands. They’d shed all of their armor, trusting one another not to swing too recklessly, and both stood there in their white tunics, all but plastered to their bodies. Dream’s helmet lay in the mud on top of the armor pile, off to the side. 

When Dream had said  _ would you bet money on it  _ George had thought he was being hypothetical. When Sapnap said  _ I’ll beat you whenever you want,  _ he had assumed this was going to be a problem for a later day. Even when Dream grinned and replied with  _ Bet, we’ll go outside right now and settle this,  _ it still hadn’t fully sunk in, and George was living in a blissfully ignorant world. When the two of them stood as one, George had looked up at them in confusion. When he’d been all but carted outside to watch them, reality had come crashing down around his head. 

They hadn’t even been outside for three minutes when the rain started. With as bright as it had been earlier, George would never have suspected bad weather of any kind. What began as a slow trickle that made the dirt below slightly less unstable turned into a full on downpour that meant George was already covered in mud from when Sapnap slipped right in front of him, kicking it up in an arc. George would have almost called it artful, had the offending sludge not splattered him from head to toe and immediately made itself at home seeping into his clothing. 

Suppressing a sigh, George focused on the battle in front of him once more. 

Sapnap had the immediate and obvious upper hand. Dream’s height didn’t often work against him, but Sapnap’s lower center of gravity came in handy when he needed to quickly adjust to the instability of the ground. The brunette pressed his advantage, taking controlled swings at Dream and forcing him to back up. Stumbling dangerously over ground he couldn’t see. For the most part, the two of them remained cautious. If one of Sapnap’s swings went too out of control, or Dream’s center of balance shifted too far, the respective knight could find a sword at his throat, and the fight could be over in a heartbeat. 

George found his heart in his own throat as he watched the two of them. No matter what, he always worried when Sapnap and Dream sparred. Usually, the clang of metal on metal rang out over open fields as they fought (bad for their swords, but that’s beside the point) but today, Dream didn’t even reach out to strike until Sapnap had finally overswung, the shorter boy barely stumbling back in time to avoid it. 

It was a lot less exciting than literally any other battle George had ever seen, and he had been there from the beginning, watching a thirteen year old Dream struggling to lift his sword high enough to fight, facing down an opponent maybe twice as tall as he was while training. However, Dream had never lost that determined sparkle in his eye, no matter who he fought, no matter how the odds were stacked, no matter how many times he got knocked down. His passion was what brought intrigue to the deadly dance, and his joy was what made George’s heart stutter happily when he watched, no matter how nervous he may be. 

This went on for another ten minutes, the careful trading of light blows and a bit of quick footwork when necessary, hindered by the sludgy mud. The cold had made itself at home inside of George’s bones, curling up and nestling into him, but the grins and quick looks Dream shot at him every time he knocked Sapnap a little more off balance kept him warmer than anything else. 

His shoes and socks were completely soaked through, and they made wet squishing sounds as he shuffled from foot to foot. 

“You know, you could step under the overhang by the palace gates.” 

George turned at the soft voice, seeing Niki next to him, a small smile on her face. Her hair was plastered to her head, and her clothing looked just as soaked through as his. Most likely for that reason, she’d shed her cloak, holding it in her arms. Honestly, she’d never looked more regal. Niki just carried that air about herself, it was one of the things George admired most about her.

She gestured to the small, gazebo-esque structure over to their left. It had been a community service project a couple of years ago, the town coming together to make a little shared community space. It was well loved, but a bit too far to the side, and they wouldn’t have as good of a view from over there as he would here, up close and personal. 

“Dream would want me close enough to watch,” he replied. 

Niki let out a little laugh at that. “Of course he would,” she replied knowingly. 

George couldn’t help the small frown at her tone. Usually he only heard that from Sapnap. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked her. 

She shook her head a little. “Just that some things never change.” 

Dream looked back over at George with that same, blinding grin, but his eyes snapped to lock onto Niki instead. In a second, the grin was gone, replaced with a grim expression George didn’t want to identify, and he stumbled on his next step. Sapnap let out a mix between a whoop and a cackle. 

As Dream struggled to recover his lost ground, George ducked his head and became very interested in the mud in front of him. He replayed the way that Dream’s smile had faded when he looked over at the two of them over again in his head. 

“I am sorry,” Niki told him, her voice saturated in sincerity. 

“What, that I have to stand out here in the rain and watch these two idiots?” George murmured back to her, trying to keep the tone light. 

“You know what I mean.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” George replied. He wished he believed himself. 

“Perhaps I have nothing to apologize for personally, but I am still sorry,” Niki replied. “I am fortunate enough not to find myself in your particular situation, but I still wish to apologize.” 

“Sure,” George replied, slightly distracted. Dream had knocked Sapnap’s sword away and into the mud. With a loud screech, he had knocked his full body weight into the other boy, sending the both of them cantering into the mud. That was it then. Dream had won. 

“It must be terribly difficult,” Niki continued, almost wistfully, “To be engaged when you are so clearly in love with another.” 

George could feel his ears burning. He didn’t say anything. 

When Dream popped up, he sprinted over to George eagerly, arms out. George’s head was filled with images of Dream picking him up and spinning him around with joy after his last tournament win. With a small shriek of his own, George started to back up. “Dream, no! You’re all dirty!” 

“C’mere, George! Let me give you a big hug!” 

George let Dream chase him for a moment before ducking behind Niki, peeking out over her shoulder. 

Dream, in an impressive show of control, stopped short, right in front of Niki. “Ah, your Highness,” he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. 

“Hello, Dream.” Niki sounded amused. “It’s been a long time.” 

“Um, yeah,” Dream replied, as Sapnap came up next to him with a huge grin on his face. “It sure has.” 

“Hello, George! Queen Niki!” Sapnap's skidded to a halt with a lot less grace than Dream, handing the other knight his previously discarded sword. 

Dream accepted it with a small smile of thanks. “Why are you grinning, you big idiot?” Dream asked him teasingly, shifting his focus from where George was hiding behind Niki to his equally muddy friend. “You lost!”

“Yeah but that was still a great fight!” Sapnap replied. “Besides, this doesn’t count for anything. We’ll see who’s really better at the Festival!” 

Dream just rolled his eyes, his smile growing. “Come on, let’s go inside. George is too delicate for this harsh weather.” 

George let out a small squeak of protest at that, but Dream had already sidestepped Niki and picked him up, grabbing him by the waist and carting him over his shoulder nearly effortlessly. 

“Put me down!” George couldn’t help but blush as he was manhandled, but Niki and Sapnap just laughed, falling in behind Dream and making their way back up the winding road to the castle gates. 

Bad was waiting for them at the gates, arms crossed in disapproval. “Your  _ Highness,” _ he hissed, as Dream set George down in front of him. 

“Uh, hi,” George replied, cheeks pink and a little out of breath. 

“There are  _ people _ watching you,” Bad hissed again, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside, as one would with a petulant child. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” George muttered softly as Bad’s grip on his wrist tightened. Dream was still trailing him, trying to contain what would inevitably spiral into one massive wheeze. “Bad, what is your deal?” 

The doors slammed shut, rattling in their hinges, and then he, Bad, and Dream were standing inside of the castle’s kitchen, the nearest room accessible from the outside of the building, and out of the pouring rain. Surprisingly, none of the cooks were there, but the room smelled faintly of pork. 

“My  _ deal  _ is that you’re out here acting like a muffinhead when you need to be focusing on everything else that’s happening!” Bad let out an angry huff. “You’re behaving like a child, and the people need their king to be acting mature in times like these.” 

George found something inside of himself to bite back. “Times like what, Bad?” 

Bad’s eyes narrowed slightly, a silent challenge. 

“We haven’t told anyone anything!” George gestured around them, more for dramatic effect than anything else. “No one knows anything at all! You were the one that said we shouldn’t tell the people about Schlatt’s possible imminent attack!” 

“That’s because I’m trying to prevent mass hysteria for the moment!” Bad shot back. “Excuse me, sorry for doing your job for you!” 

George’s ears were burning again, this time with anger and a bit of shame. “Well I don’t need you to do my job for me!” 

“Oh really?” Bad’s eyes narrowed even further. “Because from my perspective, I’m the only one trying to do your job at all.” 

It hit him like a wall. “You take that back,” George whispered. His heartbeat was roaring in his ears, fuzzing everything around him into nothing at all. Everything came to a stop, but it was moving too quickly for him to comprehend. 

“No,” Bad whispered back, “I don’t think I will.” 

Their whispers were louder than anything else in the room. 

“I-” George inhaled sharply. “I am your king.” 

Bad’s words felt like a knife to the chest. “Then maybe you should start acting like one.” 

George opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His vocal cords were slowly crushing themselves, withering away under Bad’s disapproving stare. 

“Yeah,” his advisor whispered. “That’s what I thought. Maybe focus on gaining a spine before you focus on that crown.”

“You need to back the fuck off.” 

George hadn’t spoken, couldn’t speak, but the growl that came out of Dream’s mouth almost made him choke on empty air. He had never heard the other man sound so angry, a raw fury that threatened violence. 

Bad, who had been making steps in George’s direction, faltered. “Language.” No matter what political power Bad held in this moment, he was smart enough not to pit it against Dream’s physical power. That was part of what made him so good at playing king. 

Dream cocked his head, saying nothing as he stepped closer to George, moving to stand between him and his advisor. 

“This isn’t the end of this conversation,” Bad finally warned him, backing off slowly. “You can’t protect him forever.” 

Dream gave him a cold smile. “Watch me.” 

Bad slammed the door behind him as he left, rattling the spruce wood. The moment snapped like a taut wire, and George felt his soul sink back into his body, buckling his knees slightly as he struggled to stand. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Dream’s anger had turned into something soft, malleable. George let himself melt in Dream’s arms, sinking against him and pressing his shaking form into the knight with a soft sob. “Hey, George, hey…” His voice wrapped around George like a physical thing, cocooning him in warmth. His hand was tracing small circles on George’s back, tentative and feather light. “You’re okay.” 

It was a while before George could bring himself to speak again. “He’s right, you know?” 

“What?” George flinched at the sudden loud noise, and Dream’s small ministrations on his back became a little bigger, apologetic. “George, there’s no way in  _ hell  _ he’s right.”

“S’true, I’m a terrible king. Everyone knows it.” 

Dream frowned down at him then, and George allowed himself this moment in his best friend’s arms to just look. Dream’s arms and hands were lightly scarred, the natural result of years of training as a part of the royal guard, but the only scar on his face was one on the left side of his forehead, a reminder of his bloody past. George wanted to reach out and trace those memories, run his fingers over little slices of time forever immortalized on his friend’s body. 

“You shouldn’t say things like that about yourself,” Dream whispered into his hair, tucking George under his chin, and Geogre swore he forgot how to breathe for a moment. He didn’t want to remember, but when he let out a mix between a strangled gasp and another sob, Dream just held him tighter. “Don’t ever say things like that about yourself. We’re not talking about this right now, okay?” Dream whispered. “You’ve clearly talked about this enough already.” 

Deep down, George knew he was right. That didn’t help the bubbling acidic taste of his own self hatred, welling up inside of him and spilling out of him. His tears burned his cheeks, hot like fire and cold as ice. They soaked into Dream’s shirt as George wordlessly let Dream hold him together. 

\-----

Schlatt was pissed off. Or maybe he was hungry. Or maybe he wanted a drink. Maybe he was all three of those things. “Quackity!” he barked out, slouching further down on his throne and scratching at the flecks of red that still dotted the varnished wood. Gems were encrusted all along the back of the ornate chair, as well as nestled into the silver of the heavy crown resting on his head. 

Quackity was there in a heartbeat, grinning as he dipped into an almost mocking bow. One of his teeth was missing, and the scar cut through both his top and bottom lip, from just under his nose to the middle of his chin. “Your majesty,” he drawled. “You called?” Briefly, his eyes flicked to the guard to Schlatt’s right, the only one in the room apart from the two of them. She was standing motionless, chin held high and eyes focused on a point across the room, perhaps on the dark tile floor. 

Schlatt rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and gazing around the room himself. Ever since he’d taken over L’Manberg, changed its name, and asserted his complete and total power over every single one of the citizens, he’d felt like he was being tugged in every direction at once. So for today he’d blown out almost all of the candles in Manberg’s vast throne room, drawing their signature red and black curtains to block out any offending sunlight. It’s not like anyone would give the behavior a second glance. It was here that he spent most of his time anyway, when he wasn’t on the battlefield. 

“Stand up straight when you talk to me,” he replied, “And get that stupid thing off your head.” He waved one arm at his executioner’s beanie. 

“No can do, Boss!” Quackity replied cheerfully, and Schlatt allowed himself one, shining moment to envision a world in which he had simply thrown the shorter man in jail to rot for the rest of eternity. His vision was short-lived. Quackity was too good at what he did to be thrown in jail and he knew it.  _ Cheeky little shit. _

“Did you find any news on the boy?” he asked him, as he did every day. 

“The boy,” Quackity mused quietly. “Yes, the boy, the boy…” 

Schlatt grit his teeth together, doing his best to maintain a kingly composure. He was sick and tired of hearing about the boy, but the people of Manberg seemed to hang onto this stupid hope when it came to him, and nothing in this world would give him more pleasure than to squash that hope like a bug. “Yes, the boy. Did you find anything?” 

“Same as always, Boss.” Quackity shook his head. “Nada.” he hesitated, as though afraid to speak his mind. Schlatt couldn’t help but snort.  _ That’s a first.  _

“What is it?” 

“Are you sure he’s even still out there, sir?” Quackity asked him. “I mean, not to question your almighty rule, but it’s been eight years. Don’t you think that if he were going to show up by now, we would have heard word of it?” 

Schlatt just pounded his fist on the throne. “I don’t care how long it’s been, if we haven’t heard about him then he’s still out there somewhere and I need him  _ dead,  _ Quackity!” He didn’t miss the way his guard flinched at that. He turned to her with a sneer on his face. “Something the matter,  _ Captain _ ?” 

She shook her head quickly, still focused on a point off in the distance. “No, none at all, Sir.” 

“His lips curled back into a smile. “Good.” Taking off his crown and twirling it in between his fingers, he feigned indifference. “Say, you’ve been a knight serving Manberg for how long now?” 

“Ten years, your Highness.” 

“Interesting… interesting… Well, I suppose you weren’t labeled the best for nothing.” Schlatt nodded, banking that information before turning back to Quackity, who was watching this conversation with hungry eyes. “We attack Pogtopia as soon as the troops and our surprise are both ready. How long do you predict?”

“We can assemble and collect the rest of the materials necessary by the end of this month at the latest,” his kight replied. 

Schlatt’s tone was silky smooth. “Lovely.” 

“And in the meantime, Boss?” Quackity was cracking his knuckles, a bad habit that echoed and popped loudly in the empty space around them.

Schlatt leveled his yellow eyes on the small executioner. “Find him,” Schlatt hissed. “That boy is the only one who could take this from me and I want him  _ gone.”  _

As Quackity left with another of his comical bows, Schlatt pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding forward in his chair slightly.  _ Why oh why,  _ he thought,  _ didn’t I do a better job of executing the royal family? _

If all went to plan, the boy would be no concern to him. They would find him, they would slaughter him, and the people of Maberg would remember who their real king was, not some snot nosed brat who just happened to get lucky and give him the slip. Besides, the boy was nothing more than a ghost story, some dim glimmer of hope in the distance for overly optimistic fools who couldn’t open their eyes to the real world. For all he knew, the prince could already be dead. 

Schlatt groaned. His head hurt.  _ Oh, what am I doing? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I seriously can't thank you enough, all of the support this work has gotten has been freaking amazing, and I know more niche things that are in progress usually get fewer hits/kudos/comments, so I just want to give everyone who's done so the HUGEST thanks. You guys keep me excited and motivated to write, and I hope you're all enjoying the story as much as I am! <3
> 
> By the way! If you want to refer to me as something other than “author” I go by Ginger online! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with a new chapter! Finally getting around to introducing some new characters.

With a groan, George let his head hit the desk. 

“That bad, huh?” Sapnap said, looking up from where he was eating an apple, lying lengthwise across George’s oversized bed. He gave him a sympathetic wince. George’s curtains fluttered lightly in the morning wind. 

“My dad never taught me how to do this part,” George just mumbled into the wood, his head swimming with words like  _ alliances, marriage,  _ and  _ your queen.  _

“Well, I assume it can’t be much worse than the speech you have to give at the festival, right?” Sapnap sat up on the bed now, taking another bite out of the apple. His fingers smoothed over George’s blue covers. “And you’ve had that one written for weeks, you did that in like two hours!” 

“That’s completely different,” George replied. “It’s not the act of performing the speech, it’s the content.” 

Sapnap nodded knowingly. “You don’t know how to tell them you have to marry a hot woman for the benefit of the kingdoms.”    
  
George glared at him, but Sapnap just laughed. 

“And I’m talking  _ kingdoms _ , plural. Come on, dude, if you were anyone else this would be the easiest thing in the world. Just pretend you’re writing about marrying Dream or something.” 

“Shut up,” George grumbled. “You’re the worst and I don’t know why I invited you.”

“Because I’m your best friend?” Sapnap cooed at him. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, is what you are,” George replied. “Don’t you have knights to train or something?” 

Everything had picked up speed these last few days. They were down to the wire, half a week left before the first day of the Festival, and the hustle and bustle of the castle was one that George had looked forward to in his youth, but now dreaded trying to conduct. Like the world’s most chaotic orchestra, they listened to no directions, everyone on a one track focus to get their respective jobs done. 

Not to mention the added stress of an unhinged dictator quietly threatening war on the kingdom you were declaring your alliance with. George had been up to his ears in questions and concerns regarding every possible consequence of his actions. He wished he knew what to say to make everyone happy.

“Naw,” Sapnap replied, blissfully unaware of George’s inner turmoil. “Dream said he’d cover it today.” 

George shot a wistful look towards his balcony. One of his favorite things about his room was that it overlooked the fields the knights trained in. It was how he had managed to sneak away so many hours to watch Dream and Sapnap train from afar. “Ah, that explains why I haven’t seen him yet today.” 

Sapnap nodded a little at that. “Isn’t he like your personal bodyguard or whatever? Shouldn’t he be with you at all times?” 

George just snorted a little. “Personal knights have been a tried and true tradition for generations, but they aren’t as much of a necessity today as they used to be. They’re a bit more of a formality now. Besides, do you see Wilbur following Niki’s every move to a T?”

“No, but you and Dream have that…” Sapnap gestured at him. “You know! That thing!” 

George full on laughed at that. “Unless that ‘thing’ is us being physically attached at the hip, then no. Dream and I are our own people, you know. We’re not a package deal.”

“Well, you might as well be, with how clingy the two of you are!” Sapnap sounded a little exasperated. 

George just snorted, picking up a crumpled ball of paper off his desk and throwing it at his friend’s forehead. “Whatever you say.” 

The hours felt like seconds. 

He was understandably nervous about the speech. There was something incredibly jarring about baring your private life to hundreds of people, but for once, that wasn’t the main issue. George glanced over at Dream as he ruffled through his notes, the barebones outline of what he would hopefully present as a powerfully written speech to his people in a few moments time. The knight seemed to be buzzing with low level anxiety, tapping his blunt nails over the hilt of his sword and bouncing on the balls of his feet ever so slightly. 

“Hey, you okay?” George murmured to him, not making eye contact. 

  
Dream let out a pained laugh. “I should be asking you that much,” the other man responded. “Aren’t you the one who’s about to go announce your betrothal to the whole kingdom?” 

George’s heart twisted on the word ‘betrothal’. Something about the way Dream’s lips curled around the word made him bitter. “Unfortunately,” he muttered. 

“Wish it were me,” Dream muttered, so quiet that George could barely hear him. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he had heard him. He paused for a moment, blushing a brilliant red. 

“Who knows?” George choked out in response. He hadn’t realized his friend was so eager to get married himself. “Maybe one of these days you’ll find a nice girl to settle down with.” 

Dream snorted. “Doubtful.” 

“What, would marriage ruin your image?” George teased him lightly, just to keep this topic of conversation alive. It flickered between the two of them like a living flame, sucking the air from his lungs and making him feel lightheaded. 

“It’s… complicated,” Dream replied, not making eye contact. 

“No one caught your fancy yet?” 

“They’re not interested.” 

George pouted in sympathy, but his head was screaming at him in disappointment.  _ Stop now, while you still can,  _ it urged him.  _ The less you know the less it will hurt. _ “How do you know that?” he practically demanded of the other boy, but Dream just turned that same, slightly wistful gaze on him. 

“I just do.” 

“Well,” George declared, feeling detached from himself, like he was listening to this conversation through a pane of glass. Everything felt slightly muffled, slightly fuzzy. “Any girl would be a fool not to want you.”  _ Anyone would be a fool not to want you.  _

Dream ran his fingers through the front of his hair. It was growing longer now, and a few golden strands flopped into his eyes. George wanted to brush them back from his face, run his fingers through that liquid gold and feel the hum of Dream’s contentment as he pulled him closer. He banished those thoughts as soon as they came to him. They wouldn’t do him any good now. 

“Right,” Dream muttered. “Any girl I want…” 

George didn’t know how to answer that. The fire between them burned brighter, singing the tips of his fingers as he ran them through his own brown locks. There was more to that statement, a meaning neither of them should want to touch on. George had never wanted anything so badly. 

“George,” Bad hissed, poking his head inside of the door. “They’re waiting on you!” 

He stiffened immediately, the heat in the room dissipating until the only burn remaining was the flush on his cheeks, light embarrassment. 

  
Bad shot him an exasperated gaze. “Come on, muffinhead,” he muttered, a mix between actually disappointed and feigning civility. He and Bad had gotten better at feigning civility now, a dangerous dance that neither of them wanted to follow in, but neither of them wanted to lead either. So they continued spinning circles around one another, pretending everything was normal, the way it used to be when they were kids. 

“Right,” he said awkwardly, standing up and straightening his shirt nervously. He suddenly felt prickly all over, like there were tiny bugs crawling over his skin. “It’s go time.”    
  
Dream smiled at him, another look George couldn’t quite place in his emerald eyes. “Knock ‘em dead,” he whispered, and then his helmet was on and he was gone, and Sir Dream stood in the shoes of George’s best friend. 

He followed George as he walked up to the podium, standing a bit less than a respectable distance away. Niki was already there, smiling at them from where she stood next to the royal treasurer. Skeppy took his leave, backing away to make room for George to speak. 

Everyone’s eyes were on him. 

George cleared his throat nervously, and then he began to speak. “My people.” 

Their eyes were wide, expectant, curious. George felt a little sick. 

“It is today that I come to you all with the best of news,” he continued, noting the way that many audience members perked up, and a few small murmurs rippled through the crowd. It was really quite large. “As you all know, Traumreich has been a self sufficient, strong kingdom for as long as we all can remember. From my rule, to my parent’s rule, and to my father’s rule before him. Traumreich has always been strong. We have always been here for one another, and we have always made our place in the world known to those who doubted us.”    
  


There were a few more appreciative murmurs in the crowd, most likely grandparents and veterans of the old wars. The white hot rod in George’s stomach tightened. War was not a topic he liked to discuss, no matter how attention grabbing it was. 

“However, Traumreich has not had one thing for several years now,” George said, the lump in his throat growing. “Traumreich has not had a  _ queen.” _

_ And if I had my way, it still wouldn’t.  _

Niki flicked her gaze to the floor, both to avoid the stares of the people and out of respect for George. She looked grimly determined. 

“The last was, of course, my mother,” George continued, knowing no one missed the way his voice wavered on the last syllable. “May her soul rest in peace.”

There were some sympathetic murmurs throughout the crowd. 

“And now, the time has come for Traumreich to have a queen once more,” George continued, refusing to let his voice break again, not over something so importantly wrong. He slowly reached over and picked up Niki’s hand, raising their intertwined fingers slightly. Her hands were soft and warm, and she gave him a brief squeeze. Offering her strength. 

The people buzzed with unmatched energy, light flickering in their eyes. Despite that, the blue and gold banners seemed duller, the grass less green, the twinkling lights in the shop windows dimmed. Everything was losing color, and George was at the very center of it. 

And so George continued. “I am here before you today to announce the joyous occasion of a traditional alliance of marriage between Traumreich and Pogtopia.” He held his and Niki’s arms up in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, your future queen!”

Niki was grinning, one of necessity, not joy. Her blinding smile could fool the best of them as she laughed and waved to the people, using her free hand to brush her hair out of her blushing face. 

Dream stood motionless beside him, his presence heavy. Wilbur stood behind Niki, a relaxed smile on his face as she giggled at the crowd, feeding into their excitement. 

“Put your arm around my waist.” 

He would have missed it if his hearing wasn’t so tuned into everything around himself. “What?” George hissed through his bared teeth. He waved to the crowd as well, hoping they could see just how  _ genuine  _ his smile really was through the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. 

“Put. Your arm. Around my waist,” Niki hissed back, not breaking her soft smile for a moment. “Do it.” 

And so he did, and the people seemed to love that even more. Their cheering bounced off of the walls around him, echoing over and over until it all became a dull ringing in his ears. 

Niki slotted herself against him casually, returning the half hug like she’d done a thousand times when they were kids. “It will all be over soon,” she promised him softly, lips barely moving. 

George mustered up a small nod, his eyes finding Bad smiling in approval from the middle of the throng of people. 

The seconds felt like hours. 

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do in the history of this kingdom!” George shrieked from his bed, muffled. He’d made it all the way back to his chambers before he’d broken, letting out a stilted and confused scream of embarrassment. His heart was still racing a million miles an hour. 

Dream said nothing from where he stood, leaning against the closed doorway. A distinct sense of disgruntled anger was radiating off of him. 

“What, you’re not going to mock me?” George muttered finally, looking up at his friend from the bed, propping his head up with one hand. His crown had fallen off, glinting golden against the sheets. 

Dream just grumbled something under his breath. 

“Seriously?” George looked at him in astonishment. “Nothing?” 

“What do you want me to say?” Dream asked him, his gaze finally locking in on George in that way that would make his knees weak if he wasn’t already sitting down. Even now, he hesitated to move, frozen in place. 

“I don’t know, try  _ anything at all  _ and go from there,” George offered up with a huff. 

That made Dream snort at least. “You’re such an ass.” 

“Takes one to know one,” George replied. 

“Mmh, so mature as well,” his kight purred. 

George wiggled himself deeper under his covers, not missing the way Dream’s eyes tracked his motions. “Nothing but the best from your king.” 

That seemed to snap the taller back into reality. “Congrats, by the way,” Dream said, clearing his throat awkwardly. His voice sounded hollow. “I realized I never really said it.” 

“Please, don’t,” George replied, before he could think about what he was saying. 

“I- what?” 

“Not from you,” George whispered. “It’s bad enough already.” He glanced over into Dream’s eyes, silently begging. 

Dream, like a skittish animal, sat on the very corner of George’s bed. “How do you mean?”

There they were again, dancing around that dangerous topic. George squirmed a little bit more, until he was sitting facing Dream on the bed, a small frown playing with the corners of his lips. 

“I don’t want you to say something we both know you don’t mean,” He said. 

Dream paused. He looked almost guilty. 

“It’s fine,” George continued, still frowning. “I mean, she isn’t any happier about it than I am, it’s purely strategical. I just can’t help but-” 

Dream’s thumb brushed against the corner of his lips, and George felt himself freeze. 

“You look so sad when you frown,” the blonde breathed out, painfully close to him. 

George felt his eyes flick down to Dream’s lips, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Very carefully, he began stitching together the ruined remains of his composure. “Well yeah, Dream, that’s kind of the whole idea,” he whispered back, equally soft instead of playful and teasing like he had planned. 

Dream always did this to him. He couldn’t stand it. 

“Don’t do that,” Dream muttered. “I hate it when you do that.” 

His tongue felt too big for his mouth. “Do what?” 

“Brush me off like this.” Dream spoke candidly, whispering words meant for George’s ears and George’s ears alone. “I say something, you deflect, things get awkward, we both move on like nothing’s happened.”

_ Yeah, Dream, that’s kinda how I work.  _

“I-” The words were stuck in his mouth. 

“So I need you to tell me,” Dream said, looking into George’s eyes, “If something is happening or not. Because I don’t know what I can trust anymore, but I’d like it to be you.” 

George cast his eyes down again, to where his hands lay, clenched on his navy bed sheets. “Dream…” 

_ What am I doing?  _

\-----

It was painfully easy for Quackity to slip into the band of Pogtopians making their way tentatively through the edge of the neutral zone. A few friendly words, a bright smile, and a sheepish ‘what am I supposed to be doing?’ attitude could cover up a lot more than painstakingly thought out backstories and a fake nose. The Pogtopians were about three days out from Traumreich, on schedule to get there the night before the first day of the festival. Perfect. 

“So,” he said conversationally, chewing on a bit of bread, “How about that dictator in Manberg, huh?” 

There was an awkward break in the conversation around him, before someone tentatively spoke up. 

“We don’t know a whole lot about what’s going on, but it seems like he’s bad news,” A brunette nobleman with a purple tunic spoke up. “Sure hope he doesn’t plan on attacking anytime soon. We wouldn’t be able to hold up against a force like that.”   
  
Quackity couldn’t help but grin even wider at that.  _ So Niki had told her people nothing at all. Smart gal.  _ News like that could shatter a nation.

“Yeah, he’s clearly off his rocker, let’s just hope he stays over there,” another knight snorts, tearing a bite off of his own rock hard bread. He had long, dark hair and wore little wire framed glasses. 

“I mean, I have to agree,” Quackity said smoothly, offering the knight some of his food when he finished his own. The man accepted it with an appreciative grunt. “Did you hear he’s still looking for the lost prince?” 

“That old folktale?” a second knight snorted, this one with electric green hair. “How long has it been? A decade?” 

“Eight years,” Quackity responded through gritted teeth. 

“So he’d be what now, nineteen? Twenty?” The green haired guard scoffed. 

“Old enough to take the throne for sure,” Purple Tunic cut in, shrugging. “But would the people even want him back? It’s not exactly like he’s been around.” 

“All of this is assuming that he’s even still alive,” Long Hair and Glasses cut in with a shake of his head. “Poor people…” 

“I heard they rally around him, like he’s some mystery force that will swoop down and save them from Schlatt,” Quackity voiced, picking at his nails and feigning disinterest. 

“Well, whatever helps them get through the night,” electric green shrugged. “I’ve believed in stupider on the battlefield.” 

“Fair enough,” Quackity replied. He just wished he had any information on the boy past a basic description of what he should look like. Then again, eight years is a long time, and people change. He sighed a little, picking at his remaining bread and staring into the fire. Maybe once they reached the festival, that would yield better results. 

He hadn’t been to the festival since he was young, so young. A little bit of excitement stirred in his stomach at the thought of it, and he squashed it down. 

_ No,  _ he reminded himself,  _ You’re here to work. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you have been giving your theories on this work and I love you all for it. You make my day! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did anyone order 4k of stress? :)

“Dream,” George murmured, unable to make eye contact. 

_I don’t know what I can trust, but I’d like it to be you._

“George?” Dream sounded a little desperate. His hands twitched next to George’s, like they yearned to reach out and close the gap between them. George wanted him to do it. His hands would fit so nicely in Dream’s. “Please, say something.” 

He couldn’t breathe. He’d never wanted something so badly before that he couldn’t have. As the prince, anything he had expressed even remote interest in was deposited in his lap with a shiny ribbon on top within seconds. Anything… except for Dream. And somewhere along the line, among the helpless pining and yearning, a part of him had accepted that it would always be that way.

And now, with a shinier ribbon than ever, Dream was offering himself. George wanted this more than _anything,_ and that’s why he knew he couldn’t take it. Once he took a bite of the apple, he wouldn’t be able to put it down until he’d devoured it. He was betrothed to someone else, he couldn’t string Dream along with false promises and guilty confessions. Fractured kings tucked themselves away in disloyalty and side relationships. He wouldn’t let himself join that line of rulers, no matter how much his body screamed at him to give in.

God, he hated the way the world worked out. 

Dream was still looking at him with those half wild, yearning eyes. He didn’t know what to say.

He had to say something. 

“I-” 

“Your Highness, come quickly!” Skeppy burst into the room, looking slightly windswept. His hair was a bit wild and his chest was heaving. 

“Oh my _gosh,”_ Dream groaned out, backing away from George. “Five uninterrupted minutes? Five fucking minutes? That’s all I’m asking for here. No? Fine.”

Skeppy sent him a slightly startled look. “S-sorry,” he muttered. “It really is important.” 

George just tugged at Dream’s hands with his own, pulling them into his own, a silent promise of _later._ His head was still buzzing. Dream was intoxicating from this distance, probably close enough to kiss and definitely close enough to know that he shouldn’t. They could work this out later, when George could think straight. 

“What is it?” George asked Skeppy as he slid off of the bed, missing the lingering warmth from Dream’s hand immediately. It was almost painful, the way Dream’s fingers trailed across his palm and fingers as he let go, slipping through his grasp. 

  
Skeppy was still looking nervously at Dream, who was doing a pretty good job sulking like a child for a nineteen year old man. “Uh, well, you see,” the treasurer cleared his throat. “The Arctic Empire just docked their fleet. They’re here for the festival a little early. Um, I guess the wind treated them well.” 

George nodded, putting on his most kingly smile. “Well, I suppose this is the part where I go and greet them,” he replied. 

Skeppy nodded. “I’ll give you a moment then.” Turning around so quickly he almost hit the doorframe, he made a beeline out of the room. 

George could feel a bubbly laugh catch in his throat. “You scared him,” he said to Dream, reaching into the sheets for his crown. “Only you could intimidate someone while sulking. Honestly…” 

Dream’s sudden grip on his wrist stopped him in his tracks. George felt himself be pulled back into Dream’s orbit, and he let it happen, eyes flickering across the blonde’s face. 

“George.” Dream’s voice was deep, and his eyes begged for something George couldn’t bring himself to give him right now. 

“Later, Dream, we’ll talk about this later,” George muttered, head suddenly swimming again. He hated not being able to think straight. He had never wanted so badly to stop wanting before.

“Why not now?” Dream demanded. 

“Because there’s an entire fleet of knights and nobles from the Arctic Empire downstairs, waiting for me to formally greet them and welcome them into my kingdom, Dream,” George replied, pushing everything on a backburner. It simmered and hissed angrily, but he forced the lid down on top of it anyway. _Another problem for Future George._ He hated himself. 

“Fine,” Dream muttered, sounding a little defeated. Just like that, all of the fight went out of him, and he dropped George’s arm completely. 

George frowned. “Dream…” he muttered, but the other man was already putting on his helmet, its expressionless face staring him in the eyes. Dream was gone for now. 

“Wouldn’t want to keep your guests waiting,” Dream replied cheerfully, voice slightly muffled by the mask. 

“Right,” George replied, sliding his crown into place and taking one final look in the mirror. 

King Phil of the Arctic Empire was an older man with slightly greying hair. He was waiting on the land just beyond Traumreich’s docks, men unloading supplies on all sides of him, a peaceful smile on his age worn face. 

“King Phil,” George greeted the older man with a smile, holding out his hand. 

Phil pulled him into a hug instead. “Prince- er, King George!” 

George couldn’t help but grin at that. Phil was an ageing king, but he’d been king of the Arctic Empire since almost before George was born. He couldn’t remember a time when the older man hadn’t been on the throne. 

Technoblade, his adopted son, stood off to his right, doubling as his personal knight. The Arctic Empire had always done things a little differently, with the excuse of their island being far north and disconnected from the rest of the kingdom, but it was no secret that Techno had no interest in inheriting the throne from his adoptive father. That was the only reason Phil was still the king, his only remaining heir doing his best to stay away from the politics of the kingdom and instead defending it and Phil with his life. The half piglin gave a little nod to Dream, who returned it cockily. 

“It’s good to see you again,” George said truthfully, pulling the older man back an arm’s length away. “Time has treated you well. Please, follow me to the castle, Bad can show your men where they’re sleeping, and you and the other nobles can come with me.” They had rooms in the higher levels of the castle, where all the high ranking guests would be sleeping. 

“Of course, man,” Phil said with a grin, beckoning Techno and another tall boy to fall in after him. 

“Who’s this then?” George asked as they walked, gesturing to the teenager who had maybe a solid foot and a half on him. He was skinny and lanky, with pointed ears and black and white patches of skin. 

“The stray?” Techno jerked his finger back to the kid with a grin, “Memory Boy over there is Phil’s newest adoptee. He’s half enderman, half… whatever the fuck that would be.” 

Phil just beamed back at them. “Unofficial adoptee. Techno, don’t be rude. George, Dream, this is Ranboo. He’s been staying with me and Techno.” 

The kid gave them an awkward half wave, and his eyes focused on George nervously. With a start, the young king realized that while one eye was the same color as Dream’s eyes, Ranboo’s other eye was a blood red. 

“Nice to meet you, Ranboo,” he said with a smile. “Where did Phil pick you up?”

“I was living with an enderman named Edward,” Ranboo said, his voice sounding slightly pixelated. George blamed it on the accent. Endermen kept mostly to themselves these days, but the ones that learned to speak English always ended up with that same weird double tone to their voices, like they were speaking both languages at once. “He, uh, died.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” George replied, catching himself before he fell into the easy cadence he used with nobles he didn’t care about. 

“It’s alright,” Ranboo replied, “I don’t remember much about him at all, honestly. The book says he was nice though, so I hope there’s someone out there who can remember him!” 

“...Right.” George wasn’t sure how to unpack that so he just dropped it. _Later,_ his brain echoed at him mockingly. He was compiling quite a list for ‘later’. 

“Techno actually found him when he was out hunting,” Phil said cheerfully, like there was nothing wrong with Ranboo’s last statement. “Brought him back to the castle and practically adopted him himself. I hardly had to do anything!” 

“Shut up,” Techno muttered, “No I didn’t.”

George could practically feel Dream grinning behind his mask. The Nether would freeze over before Techno admitted he cared. 

“Well, here we are,” he said to Phil, Techno, and the small cluster of nobles and advisors behind them. The Arctic Empire had always been a smaller kingdom, but they all multitasked well. George could already spot some of the advisors and nobles’ weapons. He knew they would be competing as knights in the Festival. “This whole wing is for you guys. Feel free to take any rooms that suit your fancy” 

“Thank you,” Phil addressed him. “We’ll be sure to settle in quickly.” 

“Of course,” George replied with a smile of his own. “I’ll give you all a bit of time, alright? Dinner’s at six, feel free to go wherever you please and do whatever you see fit until then. If you need me, just holler for Bad. He’ll know where to find me.” 

Phil nodded in acknowledgement, turning back to his group of advisors and other high ranking nobles, addressing them softly. George slipped away, checked on the other Arctic Empire knights, who were settling in well in the lower rooms, and then was practically dragged into the kitchens to deal with what had only been described to him as “a complete and total disaster, your Highness.”. 

The sight that awaited him in the kitchen was not one he expected. For one, flour was everywhere. It painted the walls, the floor, the ceiling, a stark white. His lineup of cooks stood nervously against the wall, muttering to each other. In the very center of the room were Tommy and Tubbo, looking sheepishly pleased with themselves and covered from head to toe in flour. 

Dream snorted from behind him, but George just pinched the bridge of his nose. “What on Earth-?”

“He started it!” Tommy blurted out, pointing a finger at Tubbo, who’s mouth flopped open indignantly at the accusation. 

“I most certainly did not!” Tubbo’s voice squeaked indignantly. “You’re full of shit! It was him! He started it!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

“Don’t tell me to shut my mouth!” 

Geogre cut in between the young knights with a wave of his hand. “I don’t care who started it okay? What’s done is done. Just…” these two were giving him a headache. “Just tell me what happened here.” 

“Well…” Tommy started, “Tubbo and I got a little peckish, around, oh, noon?” 

Next to him, Tubbo nodded in agreement. A bit of stray flour drifted from his hair. “Yeah, we were wondering if you had any tarts or biscuits or something.”

“Right. So, we were sitting there, and I- uh, _we_ got the brilliant idea to maybe… go… look.” Tommy wasn’t making eye contact. 

“And, uh,” Tubbo jumped in to fill the disapproving silence. “Well, there was no one there, you see.” 

“And we stumbled over some bags in the dark,” Tommy finished for him.   
  


George cocked one disbelieving eyebrow at them. “And that’s what got flour all over the entire kitchen.”

Tommy hesitated. “Yes?” 

“And yourselves?” George pressed, gesturing to the thin layer of flour covering every square inch of the two boys. 

“Okay, we were messing around and throwing it at each other!” Tubbo blurted out. 

Tommy glared at him. “Tubbo!” 

“I’m sorry!” The brunette wailed, “I can’t help it!” 

George rubbed his temples for a moment, but he grinned nonetheless. “Okay.” 

“I swear, we’ll make it up to you however you want, we’ll scrub the whole kitchen for you, we’ll-” Tommy stopped. “Wait, okay?” 

“Okay, it’s fine,” George replied. 

“We- we don’t even have to do anything?” 

“Well, I mean, since you volunteered…” George shrugged, “you could scrub the entire kitchen. I mean, you don’t _have to,_ but…” 

Tommy’s face was turning white under the flour. Tubbo just looked resigned. 

“Alright, lovely,” George said, smiling. “That settles that then. Thank you for volunteering, boys. If you need any help finding cleaning supplies, I’m sure my cooks would be _delighted_ to show you where they are kept.” 

He left the two of them standing there in the kitchen, trying his hardest not to laugh any more than he already had. Dream followed him as usual, a silent shadow. 

Dinner was civil, at least. Everyone of high enough rank was squeezed around the main table in their dining hall, and knights from both kingdoms were intermingled in the tables further away, making pleasant conversation. While the Arctic Empire didn’t get to spend much time with the people of Traumreich, it was common for knights to sit with those they recognized from festivals in past years. Festivals were great for reasons exactly like that, they brought people together who otherwise would never get a chance to meet. 

The cooks had really outdone themselves this time, considering the fact that they had two rambunctious children to work around tonight, on top of the oversized dinner order. The tables were piled high with roasted chicken, beef, and mutton. Pigs were to be left off of the menu for the duration of the Arctic Empire’s stay, out of consideration for their tusked crown prince. The elaborate tapestries from George’s youth had been brought back out on display, and torches flickered against the warm stone they were hung on. The banquet hall was completely swarmed with people. 

If George’s internal monologue could shut up for long enough for him to appreciate the beauty of his kingdom, he would really appreciate it. 

George looked over at Niki, smirking. Because of the size of their party, everyone who had accompanied her early was sitting with him and the other nobles. Tommy and Tubbo looked mournful, and George saw Tommy knocking flour out of his ears more than once. 

  
She just smirked back, leaning casually into his space. “What did you make them do?” she whispered to him. 

“Clean the kitchen themselves,” he muttered back to her. 

Niki just giggled a little, shooting him an unimpressed look. Dream let out a muffled cough from his other side. 

“What?” he whispered back to her. “They offered!”

“I’ll find someone to watch them in the future. Apologies.” 

“Naw,” George replied, easygoing, “Don’t bother.” 

Tubbo was waving his arms wildly, clearly caught up in whatever story he was telling Wilbur and Tommy. The other boys were grinning at him. Wilbur had his head resting on one hand, and Tommy was still brushing flour off of his sleeves. 

“It is your funeral,” Niki replied. 

He just smiled, thinking back to his youth. He, Sapnap, and Dream wouldn’t have hesitated to do exactly the same. He couldn’t blame them for it when he looked at it that way. “They’re young, let them play.”

“So!” Phil’s voice was loud, bolstered and emboldened by the wine in his fist. “I hear _someone_ is finally getting married!” 

George shot a small grin at him. 

“Congrats, kids,” Phil said with a smile. “It’s great to see just how much you’ve grown up. You’ll love every second of it, trust me.” He seemed so genuine that it hurt. “My years with Sam were the best years of my life.” 

Samantha Afrydge was Phil’s first and only love. Formerly the duchess of some smaller province on the same island as the Arctic Empire, their union merged everything on the small island into one kingdom, bringing peace to the constantly warring area. She had unfortunately passed a couple of years ago, but not before birthing two beautiful boys. They had left as soon as they could to go see the world, travelling far, far away and now sitting across from Phil at the dinner table. 

Wilbur had seemed relatively pleased to see his father. He spoke with reserved politeness, cycling through pleasantries and throwing them aside like used napkins. Tommy didn’t say much of anything, focusing his efforts on slipping salt into Tubbo’s juice and laughing loudly when he spluttered and spit it out. Both of them had asked to be exiled, if only to revoke the crown which would have been theirs by birthright. Now they only saw their father once a year. 

Now that George thought about it, no one seemed to want the Arctic Empire’s crown. 

“Thank you for your kind words,” George replied, taking a small sip of his own wine, acutely aware of everyone around him. He didn’t miss the way Dream’s eyes tracked the path of his goblet as he drank. “I’m sure my betrothed is looking forward to it just as much as I am.”

“You don’t know just how right you are,” Niki agreed, giving him a small smile and intertwining their fingers. 

Dream snapped the leg bone of the chicken he was eating in half. 

It was late by the time George dismissed everyone, moon hanging high in the night sky amongst bright stars. A cool spring breeze blew through the open windows in the castle, and the crickets were chirping softly, hidden in the tall grass below the palace. 

George made his way to his balcony slowly, content in the knowledge that he was done for now, the day was over. Running his palms along the worn stone, he gave himself a moment to appreciate the silver glow the moon cast over the surrounding area. _Well,_ he thought, _that could have gone worse._

Sighing softly, George let himself deflate, kingly charisma sliding off of him as he all but sagged with the weight of his own body. He felt like he’d just finished a battle, legs shaking slightly and his entire body slightly numb. He made a conscious effort to untense all of his muscles. 

There was a soft knock on his door. Two taps, a pause, three more taps. Their secret code.

“Come on in,” George called over his shoulder, turning back to stare over the edge of the balcony. He could just barely see the harbor from here, the soft rocking of the Arctic Empire’s ships illuminated in a white light. 

Honestly, he didn’t even know why he, Sapnap, and Dream had developed a secret knock to begin with, it wasn’t like anyone else in the palace took the time to knock on the door. They had been children at the time, maybe that was it. Or maybe people used to knock. He honestly wasn’t sure.

“Hey there.”   
  
Dream’s voice was low, and the door slid shut behind him with a soft _click._

“Hey,” George replied, just as softly, not turning around. He’d had a lot of time to think today, but that didn’t do anything to help now that he was here, in this frozen snapshot of time where it was just him and Dream. He hated the way his heartbeat spiked, just from knowing that Dream was there. “Come here.” 

Dream was dead silent as he stepped up next to him, gazing out over the courtyard, the kingdom walls, the fields, the rivers, the harbor, and the mountains that bordered Pogtopia’s land. 

“I know what you want me to say,” George spoke quietly. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that” Dream replied. 

George cast his eyes down to his hands. “I’m pretty sure I do. And you have to understand, I want to say it just as badly as you want to hear it.” 

“Then why don’t you?” Dream tilted his face to the sky. He looked so peaceful here, eyes wide, a small frown tugging gently at the corners of his lips. George felt his heart break a little bit. “Why don’t you tell me what we both want to hear? Why do you push me away every time I get too close?” 

“Would that make it any better, if I didn’t?” George asked him. He picked at a hangnail on his finger, biting his lip. “If I gave you everything I ever wanted to, would that change things?” 

“I don’t need everything, I just need something,” Dream replied softly. “You drive me nuts, George.” 

He smiled a bit at that, soft and bittersweet. “And you think you do nothing at all to me?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “God, Dream, if I could tell you half of what I think about you, you would run for the hills.” 

Dream reached out and took his hand, running the pads of his fingers over the jagged edge of his hangnail. “Not from you. Never from you.”

George stiffened. Stuck in an endless cycle of too close and not far enough away, he stared into his knight’s emerald eyes.

“Besides,” Dream whispered, “I’m already in too deep, you’d just pull me right back in.” 

George bit his lip, feeling a stinging in the corners of his eyes. “You can understand how that’s the worst thing you could say to me, right?” 

“I do.” 

“And you’re still going to say it?” 

“Well, do you want me to take it back?” 

_Of course not._ George let out a strangled sigh. “Dream… you know I can’t. Not now, not with…” he gestured around them. “This. Schlatt. My _betrothed._ Everything. I- I can’t.” 

“But you want to.” Dream didn’t sound quite sure, all of his confidence and blunder forgotten. Now, he stood there, soft and vulnerable on George’s balcony.

George felt like tearing his own hair out. He pulled his hands away from the other. “Jesus, Dream, of course I want to! Are you trying to fuck me over? What more do you want me to say? Should I spell it out for you?”

He had expected Dream to recoil like he’d been burnt. He’d expected him to pull back with a look of disgust and a sharp comment of his own. He’d expected the taller man’s walls to snap back up into place as soon as his crumbled down around him. 

What he didn’t expect was for Dream to smile softly at him, half formed tears glinting in his long lashes, and pull him closer. 

_“Dream,”_ he warned, but the other man just clutched him a little closer, until George reciprocated the hug with shaking arms. It felt good, it felt _right._

“I’m sorry,” Dream muttered into the crook of his collarbone, “Don’t want to fight with you right now. Shouldn’t have pushed you that hard.”

If only anything at all was different. 

George reached up and lightly carded his fingers through Dream’s hair. “It’s not all your fault,” he admitted. “I’ve been putting this off for too long.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Dream told him, words all but lost in the light wind. 

The two of them stood there in their stolen moment, trying furiously to pretend they were anywhere but here.

“Can I ask one more thing of you before tonight is over?” Dream whispered against the skin of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

“That depends,” George murmured, pulling back to arm’s length, holding Dream just far enough away to clear his head. “What is it?” 

There was a horrible feeling settling in his stomach. He knew what Dream wanted from him before he’d even asked. 

"Kiss me, just once," Dream begged him softly. "We don't have to do anything else, ever again. I just want this one time, just..." he looked like he was going to cry. Was George really the one who had done this to him? “Just for me," the other man whispered. 

He felt like his heart had shattered into a million pieces. George cupped his big brave knight's face in his hands, and Dream leaned into his touch like George was the only thing keeping him upright. 

_It’s not fair._

George closed his eyes, blinking back the sharp tears that threatened to spill over. Leaning closer, he touched their foreheads together, feeling salty wetness stain his fingers. Dream was crying, his body barely shaking against him. 

_None of this is fair._

Ever so quietly, George whispered back to him. 

"No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support you guys have given this fic- getting to see you guys appreciating what I wrote is really just such a great feeling and I can't thank you all enough. <3

George knew he had made the right choice. If he had kissed Dream on that windy balcony, he would never have gone back. He would have done something stupid, like renounce the crown, or run away with his knight. He would have done something stupid, and he would have liked it. 

He just hadn’t expected the right choice to leave him so numb inside. 

_“No.”_

_Dream swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he reigned his emotions in. “Then pretend I never said anything at all.”_

_George had just nodded, tears streaking down his face to match Dream’s own. They had sat there in the moonlight, just holding each other and wanting, and they had done nothing about it when they had the power to do everything._

“You look sad.” 

George blinked up at Niki, a small frown on his face. “Well, good morning to you too, your Highness.”

Niki shook her head, sitting down next to him in a fashion very reminiscent of a commoner, legs criss crossed. “No. That won’t do at all. We have a day until the festival, the rest of Pogtopia just arrived, and Stolzshire is a couple of hours out at their farthest. Everything you need to do is done. The worst is over. Why are you sad?” 

George let out an over dramatic sigh, gazing around Traumreich’s library. The building wasn’t used often, and dusty bookshelves stood tall, surrounding his little alcove. The aisles were deep and numerous, filled to the brim with old tomes that he had been sneaking out and reading since he was a young boy. Once or twice, he’d allowed himself to imagine a world in which his own words lay on those shelves, bound in leather and worn with age and love. 

Niki raised one perfect eyebrow at him, suspicious. The sunbeams were softened by the library’s stained glass windows, floor to ceiling. It cast everything in a golden-red light, all warm hues. George had been hiding here for as long as he could remember. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled, catching Wilbur’s eye from where he stood behind Niki. The guilt in his stomach twisted further. He’d given Dream the slip before his guard had even known he was gone, slipping and sliding down the side of his balcony into the soft bushes below before the other had even left his post next to George’s door. 

“Alright,” Niki replied, nodding to herself. “Then you’re coming with us.” She grabbed his arm and began tugging him up. Slightly comical, if only because she was one of the few people in the castle shorter than him. 

“What?” he protested, “Why?”

“Because!” Niki was tugging on his arm harder now. “I want to go shopping! And you’re sad, so you’re coming with us!” She let out a small noise of frustration. “Wilbur, help me get him up, please.” 

Wilbur reached over, and, with an amused expression, tugged George to his feet harshly, sending him stumbling into his heavily armored arms. 

“Ow,” George muttered, rubbing where Wilbur had yanked, “Dislocate my wrist, why don’t you?” 

“That can be arranged,” Wilbur replied agreeably, before giving him a smile. “Lighten up, dude.” 

George grumbled something else, but allowed himself to be dragged along outside. The sunlight was harsher here, and he squinted his eyes at the sudden glow. 

“Where are we going?” he asked Niki and Wilbur, who appeared to be dragging him in a specific direction with a purpose. 

“Every time we come here, we never stay long enough to go shopping!” Niki replied brightly. “Traumreich has such a cute center town, we wanted to see the sights before Stolzshire got here and it got really crazy.” 

“There will be plenty of time to see this place after-,” George pointed out before he could help it. He bit his lip sharply. _After we’re married_ had almost accidentally slipped out of his mouth. “Later.” 

“I know, I just wanted a little break,” Niki replied with that same soft grin. George wished from the bottom of his heart that he could love her like he was supposed to. 

“A break from what?” he opted to tease her, playfully ribbing her. “You haven’t done anything!” 

She giggled and shoved him right back, and it was like they were nine years old and fighting over the last tiny sandwich at the kid’s table again. “I have too!” Niki protested, her shout barely more than a quiet exclamation. “I’ve been busy, you know!” 

“Sure,” George replied, drawing the word out, “I’m sure you’ve been really busy.” 

“She has, you know.” Wilbur stepped in, a soft smirk on his face. His longsword dangled from his side casually, and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose absentmindedly as he walked. “More than you know.” 

George tilted his head slightly, examining the small criss cross scar across the knight’s nose. Dream’s scar was up higher, just above his temple, more of a gash, but Wilbur’s looked like slices from a blade. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the taller boy quipped, smirking as George snapped his head around, looking anywhere but him. “Just admiring my pretty face, King George?” 

“Sorry,” George replied, embarrassed to have been caught so rudely staring. 

“It’s the scar, isn’t it?” 

George nodded. Beside him, Niki waved to a couple of villagers, smiling and giggling. 

“I got it fighting my dad,” Wilbur said. 

“What?” Of all the answers he was expecting, it wasn’t that. 

Wilbur just smiled at him, touching the faint white lines gently. “Don’t worry, it’s not a bad memory.” 

“Part of exile in the Arctic Empire is a duel with the king,” Niki explained. “It counts as a chance to possibly redeem yourself, a chance to reverse your exile if you were to win. Winner slashes once on the loser’s face to signify the end of the duel.” 

“But you have two scars?” George’s curiosity got the better of him. 

Wilbur nodded again. “One for me, one for Tommy. He was furious that I didn’t let him fight Dad for himself, let me tell you.” He rolled his eyes fondly. “Something about me taking the blow for him ‘tearing apart his manly armor’.”

George just chuckled. “And how old was Tommy at this time?” 

“Oh, maybe… eleven, twelve, give or take a year,” Wilbur replied with a large grin of his own. 

“That’s Tommy for you,” Niki chimed in. 

“Yeah,” Wilbur said, running his fingers through his curly brown locks. “I didn’t want him to burn any bridges he would regret later. This way, he still has the option if he wants to take it.” 

“He can go back?” George asked him. 

“Yeah, by law I’m not technically allowed back on the land as long as I’m still breathing, but since he’s unscarred, if he ever needs to be there for Dad or Techno…” Wilbur nodded. Something in his expression was unreadable, stormy and anxious. “He always has the option to leave me here and go be someone else.” 

Niki gave him a sad smile. “You know he won’t leave unless he has to, Will. He cares about you too much.” 

“Pfft, he cares about Tubbo way more than he’s ever cared about me,” Wilbur snorts, and then the atmosphere is broken and shattered, and the three of them are laughing again, worries not forgotten but merely placed aside for the moment. 

They ducked inside a couple of shops, Niki trying on a couple of dresses, and Wilbur joining in and trying on one himself when George and Niki found one that would “match his eyes”. They all agreed he looked very handsome. George didn’t think he’d laughed this hard in ages. 

The town really was quite beautiful when George took a moment to look around at everything. The center clearing was set up with vendors and little pop up knick knack booths lining the green quad, and blossoming trees lined the worn cobblestone streets. Sunlight filtered through the branches, and people were milling around, chatting amicably with one another and purchasing little things that caught their eye. 

“What are your opinions on ice cream?” George asked the two of them, spotting a familiar purple and white booth out of the corner of his eye. 

Niki and Wilbur shared a glance. 

“I’m a big fan,” Wilbur eventually voiced. 

“Excellent, come with me,” George said, and then he was the one dragging the two of them through the crowd and to the little purple and white stand. 

“Hello, Purpled!” George greeted the younger boy with a smile and a wave. 

Purpled looked up, eyes lighting up as he saw him again. “Your Highness!” He did an overexaggerated bow, before straightening up and grabbing his scoop. “The usual three cones, I assume?” 

“Ah, no,” George said with a soft chuckle, pulling Niki and Wilbur up with him. “My usual, and then whatever they want.” He turned to look at his friends. “It’s on me.” 

“Aww, George,” Niki said appreciatively, at the same time that Wilbur said, “Oh, it had damn well better be on you!” 

Purpled took their orders, and George dropped an oversized tip in the jar. 

“Oh,” the boy’s eyes widened significantly. “Are you sure?” 

“Keep the change!” George just replied with a smile. 

“Thanks!” Purpled beamed at him. “Do you want an extra ice bag for the road?” 

George faltered. “What?” 

“For your head!” Purpled gestured at his forehead, still smiling. “Looks like you took a nasty tumble there!” 

George reached up and, sure enough, his forehead was tender to the touch. Letting out a light hiss, he retracted his probing fingers. “What the hell?” he muttered. 

Wilbur and Niki were giggling. 

“What?” George asked them, self consciously ducking away from them. “What is it? Guys…” 

“I- I think you hit your head on my chestplate,” Wilbur managed to make out between wheezes, sounding tragically similar to Dream in that moment. “Earlier today, in the library.” 

“Oh, God,” George groaned, burying his face in his free hand. Niki and Wilbur just laughed harder. “Guys! It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, George,” Niki made out between little laughs, “It is a little bit funny.” 

“I buy you ice cream with my own money and this is how you two treat me,” George moaned out, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m going to have this big bruise on my head for my speech tomorrow!” 

“I’m sure I have some makeup that can cover it,” Niki replied with another giggle. “Don’t overthink it.” 

George grumbled good naturedly the entire way back to the castle, but he held the gate open for Niki and Wilbur and he grinned and put one finger to his lips when Wilbur snuck up behind Niki and mimed poking her in the side, then laughed when he actually went through with it, and the resulting shriek from Niki that followed. 

He was still laughing when they entered the throne room, ice cream dripping down his fingers and cheeks flushed red. 

_“George!”_

The voice startled him, and George glanced up to meet eyes with Sapnap and Dream, who were practically running at him. 

“Oh!” George backpedaled furiously as his best friends continued to barrel straight for him. Luckily for his already bruised head, they stopped short, twin glares on their faces. 

“Where were you?” Sapnap yelled at him, a twinge of anger in his loud voice. “We’ve been looking for you all day!” 

“I- uh, what?” George stammered out. 

“Where did you go?” Dream demanded, grabbing George’s hands and ignoring the slightly sticky melt left on them completely. He fretted about like a nervous mother, if nervous mothers were six foot three and had a glare that could cut through steel. “George, what the fuck? How could you just disappear like that?”

“Disappear?” George was baffled. His heart was racing, though from Dream or from the adrenaline spike he wasn’t sure. “Dream, what? I was literally just in town.”

“You left _without me!”_ Dream cried, and George couldn’t help but picture a wounded dog. 

“Yeah, I do that sometimes?” He shot Dream a look, ignoring his aching heart. Dream was staring at him like he was his entire world. _Stop it_ , he almost muttered, before his brain caught up to his mouth. 

“No!” Dream shot back at him, “No, you never leave without me! I’m _your_ knight!”

“Let’s make one thing very clear,” George replied shakily, “You’re not ‘my’ anything.”  
  


Dream looked like he’d been slapped. George looked down at the ground, unable to stomach that look marring Dream’s pretty face. 

“I need to protect you,” Dream finally replied. He didn’t sound angry, just sad. George was sure he looked the exact same. “I need you to let me protect you.” 

“Wilbur was with us,” George whispered, biting the inside of his lip. 

“Yeah, mate,” Wilbur tentatively smiled at him. “It’s kind of my job. I made sure everything was okay.” 

“No,” Dream insisted sharply, turning his gaze on the other knight, “No you fucking didn’t.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused,” Dream replied. “I can take it from here.” 

“Dream!” George protested, but now the steely look in Wilbur’s eyes matched the one in Dream’s, and the two knights were stepping towards one another, hands resting on their respective blades. Warnings. 

“You forget yourself,” Wilbur replied, “ _My_ liege chose to spend the day with me and George, and as long as she’s still here, I will be here to protect her.” 

George was pretty sure he saw a muscle twitch in Dream’s eye. 

“Hey,” he muttered nervously, tugging a bit at Dream’s sleeves. 

For the first time in a long time, Dream didn’t so much as look in the direction of his voice. “You’d better back off,” he said to the man in front of him, voice dangerously low. 

“What?” Wilbur whispered to him, rising to the challenge, “Scared I’ll say something true?” 

“Boys!” Niki’s voice was sharper than George had ever heard it. In one smooth motion, she shoved her way in between the two knights. They fell back from one another with surprising ease. 

George let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. 

“We are all going to be together for a very long time,” Niki scolded, hesitating a moment. “Hopefully. But if we are, then I expect you two to get along well! You are full grown men, not children! Set a good example!” 

“Sorry, Niki,” Wilbur and Dream muttered, moment broken and gone, tension slinking away. George had a feeling he hadn’t seen the last of it. 

Dream was finally looking down at him. 

“Hey,” George whispered, wincing at the lame opener. 

“Hey,” Dream whispered back to him. 

“I thought we were pretending nothing happened,” George muttered to him, shifting his glance over to where Wilbur and Niki were pretending to be invested in nearby potted plants. The illusion of privacy hung like a poorly constructed tapestry between them. 

“I don’t want to,” Dream said, like it was a confession, some dirty secret he couldn’t keep to himself any longer. 

George frowned. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you were going to act like this.” 

“Like what?” Dream replied, stepping closer. 

He took a step back. The fresh air burned his lungs. “Like what? Dream, you’re kidding, right?” George gave him an incredulous look. “You can’t look at me like…” He fumbled over his words, “like I’m your entire world or some dumb shit like that.” 

“But you are,” Dream whispered. 

George shook his head at him. _And you’re mine._ “And that is a perfect example of a horrible thing to say to me right now.” 

“Sorry,” Dream murmured. 

“No you’re not,” he declared. 

“No,” Dream agreed, “I’m not.” 

He exhaled sharply. “Dream.” 

“George.” 

“You already know all of my feelings about this, and you also know that my betrothed is sitting _right over there.”_

Dream at least had the sense to look mildly guilty at that. A quick glance at Niki and Wilbur confirmed that they were still very invested in not looking like they were hanging onto the pair’s every word. “Right.” He sounded bitter. 

“If it were up to me...,” George trailed off. He didn’t trust himself to finish that sentence. Besides, it was technically up to him, and he’d already chosen his answer. He just wished he could be a little more okay with it. “I can’t.” 

A king couldn’t date his guard, he reminded himself, regardless of whether or not they were going to be married within a month. 

“I know,” Dream said, in that way that showed he really didn’t. “So what do you want to do? Keep pretending nothing happened? Keep pretending I don’t exist?” 

George frowned again. That didn’t sit well on his chest at all. Some part of him would always yearn for the blonde haired boy, night or day, married or not. “No,” he replied. “Let’s not try and pretend it didn’t happen, but we can’t do whatever the fuck this is either. Healthy medium.” 

“Healthy medium,” Dream repeated, sounding just as miserable as he was. 

“Okay,” George replied, just to fill the silence.

Dream offered him up a small smile. Slowly, like he was trying not to spook George, he took another step forward, reaching out to brush his thumb against the shorter boy’s hairline. “You’re bruised,” he muttered, doing his best to ignore the way George reacted to the feather light touch. 

“Wilbur helped me stand up and I hit my head on his chestplate,” George replied, wincing slightly at the embarrassing start to his morning. 

Dream snorted a little at that. “He was supposed to keep you safe. If I had been there you wouldn’t have hit your head.” 

“That’s just because you don’t like to wear your chestplate,” George replied with a frown. “You know, you should really do that. Could save your life one of these days.”

“Sure,” Dream replied, a bit of his cocky swagger making itself known. “Or, I could not wear it. Keeps me light on my feet.” 

George rolled his eyes, sinking his claws into the normalcy and tugging it close to himself. “You are such an idiot.” 

_My idiot._

Dream just gave him a soft smile at the words unspoken. 

\-----

Everything was so loud. 

Quackity wormed his way through the crowd, letting Karl tug him along. Why exactly he’d befriended the easygoing Pogtopian, he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the other man’s sunny disposition. Perhaps it was the fact that Karl’s eyes hadn’t once flicked to his scar the entire time they spoke on their first meeting. Or it could have been the fact that he genuinely liked spending time with the man. 

He’d rather pretend it was because easy going people were easier to manipulate. He could tag along with Karl and reap the benefits of a noble born and bred. It was a convenience, nothing more. 

_Yeah, sure. A convenience._

Glancing around him, his eyes fell on a pair of young boys, one tall and blonde, the other shorter and with soft brunette locks. They looked excited just to be out here, among all the people. _Pogtopians._

Too young to be his target, but old enough to be knights, apparently, judging by the tinted green elbow pads still on the young boys. Their chest plates and helmets lay discarded to the side, and they were licking ice cream from dripping cones. 

On to the next group of people.

King Phil of the Arctic Empire stood in the shade of a nearby tree, talking and pointing out things to a lanky teenager with pointed ears and a monochrome color palette. His smile was easygoing, and his posture relaxed. His famous sword lay next to him, the same blade he used to defend his home against Stolzshire in the War of Sixteen, the same blade he used to exile his sons. Neither of them could feasibly be his target, but it was good to keep tabs on them anyway. 

Next. 

A couple of Traumreich’s most notable royal advisors were walking by, chatting amongst themselves. They were, in order; too old, female, a long established citizen, and not matching the very basic description he had been provided with. 

Quackity craned his neck, cursing his short stature for a moment. Then he saw a glimpse of someone he hoped he would never see again. 

His blood went cold. Hand on the hilt of his axe, squatting low to the ground and partially hidden behind the lanky kid and Phil, Technoblade sat. His red eyes systematically swept the whole area, and his fluffy cloak was pulled tight around himself, despite the heat of the sun beating down on him. 

The scar on his face was burning with a phantom pain that Quackity hadn’t felt since he was first injured. 

Heart pounding, he jerked away from the sight, turning on his heel as his feet started to move without even thinking, the only thought in his head to _get away, get out of there, don’t let him see you._

A hand on his wrist stopped him. “Hey!” Karl said with a grin, “Where are you off to so quickly?” 

Quackity offered the other boy a shaky grin, hoping he didn’t sound as messed up on the outside as he did on the inside. “Oh, you know me. Nowhere in particular…” 

“Alright,” Karl replied, offering him some of what he held in his other hand. “Well, I got us the funnel cake you wanted to try.” 

“Right,” Quackity replied with a nervous smile. “Thanks.” 

When he next looked up, Technoblade was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that's it for today! Side note- I've been answering a couple of questions about this fic in the comments, and seeing you guys curious to know more about my little world here is just absolutely incredible! That being said, I'm thrilled to answer pretty much any questions about characters/backstories/etc, providing it doesn't spoil my upcoming plot! :)
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe and had a fabulous day! Drink some water if you haven't in a while.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An entire chapter from Tommy's POV?? Did I expect to write this? No. Did I plan on writing so much the Quackity plot I had planned for this would be pushed to the next chapter? Also no. Am I still posting 3k of Tommy's opinions with a sprinkle of DNF? Absolutely. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

The first day of the festival was always chaotic in the most enticing way. With Stolzshire having arrived with less than a day left before the official start, the already packed fields were completely covered with people from four of the five kingdoms. The stands had been packed since morning, watching little skirmishes and other tiny entertainment acts, and at some point the night before, large tents full of different vendors of all kinds had popped up around them. 

Tommy was absolutely buzzing with excitement, he just couldn’t help himself. 

Tubbo was a little more laid back. 

“Tommy, you’re shaking the whole bench,” the shorter knight said in a borderline exasperated tone, glancing over at where Tommy’s armored boot was  _ taptaptapping  _ away at the floor of the wooden stands. 

They had been watching the early entertainment, up higher than they’d ever been. As new knights, they wouldn’t actually be participating until the last day of the festival, when the sword fighting would happen, the biggest competitive event of the Festival. 

Festivals always ended like that, on the last day a couple of small and flashy staged fights would warm the crowd up, and then the real knights would all come out and fight for the title of best in the land. Last year’s champion had been a woman from the Arctic Empire, but there were rumors that she wouldn’t be participating again this year. Shame. Tommy didn’t think he’d ever been so far on the edge of his seat watching a fight before. 

He and Tubbo would be competing in the beginner brackets of the sword-on-sword tournament, early in the morning. All new knights had to fight early in the morning, leaving the knights with more experience to fight later in the day, and then the winners to face one another until one winner was crowned at the end of the festival. 

That was Tommy’s goal. If not this year, then next. If not the next, then the year after that. He was going to be crowned as the best of the best, no matter what it took. 

“Whoops,” Tommy muttered, making a conscious effort to stop his knee bouncing. 

“You aren’t still seriously thinking about winning the whole thing again, are you?” Tubbo asked him dubiously, and Tommy couldn't help but grin. His best friend knew him so well. 

“What better way to show dear old Dad that I’m stronger than he’s ever been?” Tommy exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll show him and Wilbur I’m not a weak little bitch anymore!” 

Tubbo looked slightly nervous, though that might have just been a result of the heights mixed with the boatload of sweets the two of them had already inhaled today. “Right,” the brunette agreed.

Tommy’s grin widened. “I’m going to win this thing, Tubbo. Then he’ll never look down on me again.” 

“But you don’t care about what your dad thinks in the slightest?” Tubbo asked him, parroting his own words from past conversations back at him. 

“Of course I don’t care!” Tommy scoffed, leaning over and grabbing another handful of fries out of the box Tubbo held on his lap. “Why would I care what he thinks?  _ I  _ left  _ him _ , remember?” 

_ The day he and Wilbur had left for good, a horrible feeling sat in the air and festered like an open wound. Tommy had been standing there off to the side of the throne room the entire time while Wilbur plead their case to Phil, sitting on his iron throne and staring down at them with something akin to displeasure in his eyes.  _

_ Wilbur had gone on explaining how he and Tommy wanted out of this life, how the two of them wanted to see the world, how he wanted to be something more than the crown prince, how he wanted to be ‘just Wilbur,’ and see where that got him.  _

_ Tommy hadn’t realized he was biting his lip until the tang of blood flooded his mouth.  _

_ A gruff voice knocked him out of his thoughts. “Hey, kid,” Techno muttered from where he had appeared, arm clamped on Tommy’s left shoulder.  _

_ “Techno,” Tommy muttered quietly, his eyes still fixed on where Wilbur stood, palms raised, pleading their case. “Are we making the right decision?”  _

_ “For Phil?” Techno hummed low in his throat, “No. But for yourselves?” He chuckled. “You need this, kid. I see that look in your eyes, you need to get out of here. This is your ticket.”  _

_ “We’re gonna be leaving you too,” Tommy replied, a sudden desperate need for Techno to beg him to stay taking root in his stomach. “We’ll leave you all alone.”  _

_ “I’m not alone, I have Phil,” Technoblade reminded him, squeezing his shoulder, and Tommy remembered that Techno really had been alone before Phil took him in. “And we’ll visit you when we can.”  _

_ “But we can’t,” Tommy said softly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We can’t come back here if we’re exiled. We can’t visit you.”  _

_ Techno’s red eyes stared into his own. “Would you rather never be able to come back, or never get to leave to begin with?”  _

_ When he put it like that, it was a non question.  _

_ Tommy felt his stomach twist around itself further, looping and knotting into something ugly. “You promise you’ll visit?” He asked the half piglin, looking up at the man he practically considered his older brother at this point. His pink hair was shorter than it is in the present day, only coming down to around his shoulders. _

_ Techno just snorted at him. “What, you think something as dumb as an ocean is going to keep me from you, kid?”  _

_ Phil’s voice cut between their conversation, resigned. He addressed Wilbur and Wilbur alone, as he always had. Tommy hadn’t expected that to change just because he was leaving.  _

_ “Very well, my son, I will grant your wish.”  _

_ Tommy buried his head in Techno’s chest plate, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling an awful sense of joy. He felt a tear track trace down his cheek. _

_ Wilbur and Phil drew swords at noon, the final step before their exile became official. Tommy had seen all kinds spar his father, but none had ever come close to beating him. They were all desperate, hopeful, sporting a mad glint in their eyes. If they beat the king at sword point, if they managed to draw blood, their exile would be no more and they would be allowed to stay. Wilbur faced his father with a peaceful face, expecting to lose. It put a sour taste in Tommy’s mouth.  _

_ Phil attacked first, as he always did, signifying the beginning of the duel.  _

_ Wilbur didn’t really try, batting a couple of his father’s weaker hits away from himself with that special grace Tommy had been trying to copy for years now but still hadn’t gotten the hang of. He was completely on the defensive, backing up and blocking but never actually trying to land a hit of his own.  _

_ Their people stood around them, solemn. Usually a match like this would be met with feverous cheers and yells, but the knowledge that the prince wanted to lose had rendered them all but mute.  _

_ When Phil finally knocked his eldest on his back, standing over him, there was a faraway, pained look in his eyes.  _

_ “Do it,” Wilbur hissed into the open air, eyes challenging his father.  _

_ There was an arc of steel, and then blood sprayed into the open air. Tommy twitched, and he felt Techno’s grip on him tighten.  _

_ Wilbur grinned then, the slice across his nose bleeding freely. He let his head fall back against the grass below him and let out a small chuckle. He looked freer than Tommy had ever seen him, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  _

_ “Right,” Tommy said, swallowing slightly. His voice echoed in the small clearing. “Me next, I suppose.”  _

_ Phil’s expression was unreadable. The people around him looked uncomfortable.  _

_ “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Tommy,” Techno told him, voice so low he could barely be heard over the rustling grass. “Wilbur will be fine, you don’t have to follow him if you don’t want to.”  _

_ Tommy shrugged him off, ignoring the pounding of his heart as he unsheathed his own blade. “No, I want this. I’m not scared.”  _

_ No one would make eye contact with him. Wilbur was seventeen, old enough to have led a kingdom if he wanted to, but there was just something about a twelve year old, a child, demanding this that seemed to make them shy away. _

_ “No,” Wilbur spoke, voice commanding and kingly and filling the air around them.  _

_ Phil turned to look down at his eldest son, who still hadn’t gotten up.  _

_ Wilbur’s brown eyes were wide, still coming down from the adrenaline of the fight. “He’s just a child. Scar me again, instead of him.”  _

_ Phil’s gaze softened into something familiar. “Thank you.”  _

_ Wilbur just nodded. _

_ “What?” Tommy made to leap forward, towards his father, to force him to fight him, to do something. Fear and guilt clawed at his throat. “No! No, wait, stop!”  _

_ Techno’s arms wrapped around his middle, and the stronger man picked him up, still kicking and screaming.  _

_ Phil looked back down at his child with a smile, and his sword slashed down once more, splattering more blood against the ground. “It is done.” _

_ Two strokes bled against the pale skin of Wilbur’s nose. Tommy kicked harder at Technoblade.  _

_ “My people!” Phil cried, raising his bloody sword and free hand up above his hand and addressing the masses around them. “What was done today was done by the request of my eldest, as you all know. That does not make this decision any easier for me, but I hope my son can move on to live a life in which he is satisfied after today. That being said, Wilbur and Tommy Soot, you are hereby banished from the Arctic Empire. You may no longer step foot on our land so long as you bear those scars, and you are stripped of your titles. You may leave now.” He hesitated, and offered a hand to Wilbur, helping him up. “Good luck.”  _

_ Tommy felt Techoblade set him down softly, and he stumbled over his own footsteps in his attempt to get to Wilbur’s side.  _

“Of course.” Tubbo’s voice snapped him back into reality, the brunette giving him a soft smile. “I’m sure you’ll do great.” 

“Thanks,” Tommy muttered, refocusing on the people down below. 

Tubbo squinted. “Is that Dream?” 

And indeed it was. The first competition of the day was jousting, a fairly popular opener for the festival and the only event before the hosting monarch’s speech. To call the matches a competition was almost giving them too much credit though, the matchup was friendly and merely for entertainment purposes. Dream stood at the end of a long line of knights, fixing one of his arm guards and grinning, sandy blonde hair a shade lighter in the sunlight. 

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, scanning the rest of the lineup briefly. He recognized Sapnap, as well as Ponk and Punz; two knights from Stolzshire that were on good terms with pretty much everyone they met. Sam, one of Pogtopia’s highest ranking knights, sat chatting amicably with them from his horse. Technoblade was sitting this one out, apparently. Tommy knew he had brought Karl along, so he wasn’t quite sure why Techno wasn’t participating in the jousting. 

“Wilbur isn’t participating. Why isn’t he… taking a stab at this one?” Tubbo asked him, a big grin starting to stretch across his face. 

“Oh, he’s sitting over there with Niki and the other kings for now-” Tommy was halfway through his explanation before he stopped, visibly cringing. “Was that a fucking pun?” 

Tubbo was laughing a little bit. “It was, it was!” 

“You are just the worst,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “You disgust me.” 

“Thank you!” Tubbo sounded pleased with himself. 

Tommy just laughed a little. “What I was  _ trying  _ to say, before you so rudely interrupted me, was that Wilbur is sitting up with the royals in the front row box. Apparently he’s not the biggest fan of jousting.” 

Tubbo looked to where Wilbur was sitting, under the shade of the blue and gold banners, helmet off and an easygoing smile on his face. To his left was Niki, and to his right was the monarch of Stolzshire, Eret. George sat to Wilbur’s right, and Phil next to him. They were all decked out in bling, a flashy show of their power without any real effort. 

_ Don’t your heads grow weary under the weight of those crowns? _

“Oh, well maybe we’ll get to cheer him on in one of the later events,” Tubbo answered him, waving a little green flag he’d picked up earlier. “Go Sam! Woohoo!” 

And Sam was up now, facing his opponent in the first matchup of jousting, the games had started while Tommy was lost in his own head. He charged, knocking the other man off of his horse and sending him sprawling into the dirt and grass. Pogtopia’s cheering was deafening. 

Sapnap, Dream, and Punz also won their first matches, but Ponk took a tumble against a woman from Stolzshire, and was eliminated. 

As Tommy and Tubbo were anxiously awaiting the next matchups to be finalized, a tall boy slid onto the bench next to them, glancing over anxiously. There were smudges of dirt on his face and neck, and his ears were long and pointed. Tubbo gave him a quick glance and smiled in a friendly manner. 

“What’s up?” Tommy offered, nodding at the strange boy and speaking for the both of them. “Why’s your face like that?” 

“Tommy!” Tubbo looked a little bit shocked. 

“What? I’m just wondering…” 

“Hi,” the boy smiled at the two of them, a bit dopey, and Tommy got a glimpse of sharp teeth in his too wide mouth. “I’m Ranboo. I’m half enderman. I arrived with King Phil.” He paused a moment. “Yeah, that covers it.” 

Tommy’s eyes narrowed a bit at that. Techno had mentioned a Ranboo a couple of times. “Ah, you’re my replacement,” he nodded.  _ Phil’s new kid.  _

“I-” Ranboo hesitated, pulling out a worn book and rifling through it for a moment. He sounded apologetic. “Sorry, who are you? You’re wearing Pogtopia’s colors.” 

“Tommy,” he voiced. “Wilbur’s my older brother.” 

“Tubbo!” Tubbo waved and smiled, but it looked a little strained. He seemed more tuned into the nervous tension between Tommy and the stranger than the stranger. 

“Tubbo…” the tall buy just muttered, now writing something down in the book. “Do you spell that with one ‘b’ or two?” 

“Uh, two,” Tubbo replied. “Sorry, what is that?” 

“Oh! Oh, my gosh.” The boy snapped his notebook shut, a strange purplish tinge to his cheeks. “Where are my manners? I forget things sometimes. The book helps me remember! I hope you don’t mind it.” 

“No worries,” Tubbo replied, reaching across Tommy to offer Ranboo some food. “You want some fries?” 

“That would be great,” Ranboo replied with a smile. 

They all sat in silence for a moment, watching Dream knock another faceless opponent off of his horse, raising his lance above his head in triumph. In his seat, next to the other royals, George visibly relaxed as his knight celebrated the small victory. 

“So,” Tommy directed to Ranboo, “Who would you say is your favorite woman?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Your favorite woman, Ranboo. Who is she?” Tommy gestured to him. “Make it snappy now! Quick answer!”

Ranboo hesitated. “Umm…” 

“Cause I’d have to go with the queen,” Tommy continued conversationally. 

“The- the queen.” Ranboo gave him a small smile.

“The queen- Queen Niki.” Tommy smiled. “Fantastic, no greater woman than her. What are your thoughts?” 

“She seems very nice,” Ranboo looked down to where Niki sat, whispering something in George’s ear. The young king cracked a grin at her words, but his gaze was still fixed on the knight clad in blue and gold on the field. “She’s the one betrothed to King George, right?” 

“Yeah, but neither of them are happy about it,” Tommy replied with a small frown. 

“Oh, really?” Ranboo looked a little confused. He was already pulling out that notebook again. The cover was inscribed with strange squiggles that Tommy assumed was most likely the language of Ender. 

“Yeah, Gogy is like, obsessed with his knight or whatever and Niki just needs the alliance.” Tommy wrinkled his nose. “Being a king fucking sucks, why do you think I left the Arctic Empire?” 

Ranboo’s eyes widened visibly, connecting dots in his head, and he was writing something in his book again, but other than that he didn’t react. 

“It really is quite sad,” Tubbo agreed, watching Dream face off against Sam, the final bracket of the Festival game having crept up on them while they were talking. After one of them was crowned winner of this particular game, George would give his speech. 

“Come on, Sam!” Tommy hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth and cheering. “Knock that asshole off his fuckin’ horse!” Next to him, Tubbo and Ranboo joined in on his cheering, though with fewer expletives. 

Spirit shook their head, tousling their mane. Across from Dream, Sam flexed his grip on his lance, a cocky smile showing through his half mask. The dark green painted metal glinted in the sunlight. 

The noise from the horn echoed out over the open plain, and the two of them knights dug their heels in and charged. 

There was one beautiful, near silent moment, and then the two of them clashed, the end of Dream’s lance grazing the side of Sam’s chestplate. The green haired knight was nearly wrenched from his saddle, swinging himself back around and realigning himself as the two of them lined up again for a second pass. Dream was likewise shaken, though Tommy wasn’t sure if Sam’s lance had made contact or not, he couldn’t tell from the angle he was at. 

“Come  _ on,  _ Dream!” George cried out from where he was sitting, hands clenched into strained white fists. “You’ve got this!” 

The second time, Dream’s lance hit true, and Sam fell from his saddle, hitting the floor hard and rolling over to a stop. 

Tommy and Tubbo let out twin groans, but joined in on the polite clapping.

“Let’s  _ go! _ ” George cried out, jumping out of his seat before remembering where he was and sitting back down quickly, red flushing across his cheeks. Beside him, Niki looked like she was about to die of laughter. 

“Oh, you’re right, he’s so obvious,” Ranboo commented. 

“You gonna write that down in the notebook too?” Tubbo asked him. 

Ranboo looked back to where Dream was dismounting Spirit, a small smirk tugging on his face. George was already standing again at the edge of his viewing area, a big grin on his face and his heart on his sleeve. Something about the image was so painfully, blatantly in everyone else’s faces it made his heart hurt.  _ Life’s a bitch.  _ “You know,” Ranboo said, “I don’t think I’ll have any problems with forgetting that one.” 

“You know what, Ranboo,” Tommy said with a grin, “You’re alright.”

Tubbo gave them both a big grin. “Tommy’s been trying to get Dream to admit he loves him for  _ years  _ now.” 

Ranboo returned the grin, and this time, his teeth didn’t seem quite so strange. It was reminiscent of Technoblade, in a way. 

“Come on,” Tommy declared, “You can come steal- ah,  _ grab  _ some more food with us before George’s speech. I want to hear about the Arctic Empire.” 

“Sure,” Ranboo replied agreeably, nodding his head. 

Tubbo clapped his hands together in excitement. “Oh, this festival is going to be so much fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I saw someone mention in the comments that they were actually super invested in what Quackity has been up to and let me tell you that absolutely made my day! (ily YourLocalTheatreKid) I'm so excited to flesh out all of the character's personalities and stories, not just Dream and George, and while this story is primarily about George and will focus on him, I wanted to make the world feel full, and I hope I'm getting that across well! :)
> 
> Hope you all are staying safe and doing well! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I've been so excited to share this one with you, you guys have no idea! :D
> 
> (Also 30k?? Wow!)

King George was nervous for his speech, that much was clear in his mannerisms alone. He rifled through his short cropped hair as he stepped up to the podium, he shuffled through his papers almost methodically, and as he finally looked up to face the people of all the different kingdoms, his fingers gripped onto the sides of the podium with an iron tight grip. 

His knight stood behind him, a sheen of sweat covering his motionless body and a self satisfied smile on his face. He was probably still riding the high from winning the first game of the festival, which was completely fair. Quackity chose to focus on the knight, tilting his head at an angle as he inspected him. Now that his helmet was off, the king’s personal knight held a lot more intrigue.

“Who is that?” Quackity muttered to Karl, nodding at where Dream was standing, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.” 

Karl let out a disbelieving laugh. “How long has it been since you came to a festival, my friend?” he asked. 

Quackity ducked his head awkwardly.  _ Eight years.  _ “Too long,” he admitted instead, thumbing at the tip of his pickaxe, strapped to his back. “I was just a kid.” 

Karl’s eyes were wide. “Wow, that must have been horrible for you!” 

_ Not as horrible as for the rest of Manberg,  _ Quackity thought dryly. He cracked a small smile at the young noble.  _ I did what I had to to survive, some of them weren’t given the opportunities I was.  _ “It’s a family thing,” he replied instead, shutting down that vein of conversation. 

Above them, George was beginning his speech. “Ladies, gentlemen, people of this land!” His voice rang out over the stands and fields around them, amplified. He sounded quite kingly. “Welcome, welcome to the hundred and thirteenth annual Spring Festival!” 

The people around them cheered, drowning out whatever Karl could have even tried to ask him next. 

“Some of you know me, some of you don’t. I am King George of Traumreich, second to his name and the ruler of this fine kingdom!” George smiled down at the people, who would be cheering no matter what he said, riding high on the energy in the air. It fizzled and sparked and felt like a live wire. “We in Traumreich welcome you whether you come from the mountains and caves of Pogtopia-”

Cheering erupted from the green and silver clad knights, and Niki waved to her people, a huge grin on her face. 

“-or the tundra of the Arctic Empire-” 

A more warlike cry from under the sky blue banners, white polar bear insignia rippling in the soft wind. Quackity could spot Technoblade from where he sat, the knight standing at Phil’s side with a grim smile on his face. A chill went down his back. 

“-or even the plains and fields of Stolzshire!” 

Eret’s crown glinted rainbow in the light, his people cheering and hollering. He just gave a small smile, nodding his head and waving slightly. 

Karl leaned back in, speaking in Quackity’s ear to be heard. “That’s Dream, by the way. He’s an enigma, he almost won the swordfighting last year. No one knows where he came from.” 

Quackity took in Dream’s green eyes, his dirty blonde hair, and the faded scar above his temple. “He looks too pretty to be a knight.” 

Karl snorted, much to the displeasure of the people around them. He winced at some of the dirty looks they shot his way. “He’s certainly prettier than some.” 

George’s voice had taken on a somber tone. “I know that we all wish the people of L’Manberg could be with us today…” 

Quackity felt something inside of his twist like a knife in his gut, hearing his kingdom’s old name. That was a felony back in Manberg, under Schlatt’s rule. He’d seen what happened to people who slipped up and called it L’Manberg, yet the name rolled off of George’s tongue just like any other. Of course it would, he’d never known any different. 

“...but I assure you all that they are with us in spirit. Hopefully, we can soon return to festivals in the neutral zone, but until then, we are more than happy to host you here within our beloved kingdom. I hope everything so far has been to your liking, and that the people of my city have treated you with kindness, and offered you everything that we have to offer!” 

There were appreciative murmurs from the crowd. 

“As you all know by now, the Festival will take place over the next seven days. But allow me to give you a rundown of all of the events and activities you will see take place this year!” George grinned widely at the audience. 

He needed a way to get information. 

Quackity was looking around them, spotting three teenagers slinking along the back wall and hissing quietly at one another. They were clearly far less stealthy than they thought they were, but with everyone’s attention on the young king’s speech, no one even batted an eyelash in their direction. He squeezed Karl’s arm briefly before slipping through the crowd after them, curiosity peaking and a bit of a plan stirring in his head.

Following them past the crowds, away from all of the people, he realized what they were doing.  _ Perfect,  _ he grinned. 

The three kids were rifling through some cabinets in a nearby stand, giggling to themselves and shushing when one of them got too loud for their liking. The blonde was clearly in charge, nodding and directing the other two with subtle motions. 

“Hello there,” Quackity addressed the three of them, taking special pride in the three surprised jumps he got in response, the kids whirling around, eyes wide. 

“Hello there,” the tiny brunette echoed him, letting out a little nervous chuckle. 

“Nice to meet you,” Quackity skipped over basic pleasantries. “What brings nice kids like you to a place like this?” 

“Nothing!” The brunette squeaked out unconvincingly.

Quackity raised one eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?” He slung his pickaxe down into his hands, spinning it slowly. The worn grip felt comforting beneath his hands, and the two sharpened points at the end flirted with the idea of grazing his skin. 

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “That’s my brother’s pickaxe,” he said slowly. 

“What?” Quackity looked down at the battered tool, then up at Tommy and Tubbo, snorting. “I’m pretty sure I would remember if I took your brother’s pickaxe, kid-”

“That’s Techno’s pickaxe,” Tommy interrupted him again, drawing his sword in one smooth motion. “Why do you have Techno’s pickaxe?” 

_ Oh. Shit.  _

“Ah,” Quackity said softly, backing up a bit. His mind was scrambling.  _ This is what you get for not leaving Manberg for years. _ “The little exiled prince. Arctic Empire runaway. It’s Tommy, isn’t it?” 

“Why do you have my brother’s pickaxe?” Tommy asked him again, stepping forward with an angry fire sparking in his eyes. His plan had horribly backfired. 

“You see,” Quackity replied with a smile, “It’s really a rather long story. I’d rather not waste my breath, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t run you through right here and now,” Tommy replied, tone cold. 

“Ooh, there’s a bit of that princely haughtiness,” he replied, putting his arms up defensively when Tommy’s face twisted further with rage. “Okay, okay, kid! Hear me out before you stab me. I’m here to make a deal.” 

“A deal?” the blonde echoed. 

He hummed his agreement. “A deal. You see, you and I are the same.”

“No,” Tommy shook his head sharply. “We are nothing alike. No deals. You tell me what you’re doing with my brother’s pickaxe or I run you through. Your choice.” 

“May I present my alternative?” Quackity asked him, a mockery of a placating smile on his face. His only response was Tommy’s lips pressing into a thin line. “Thank you. We may not have much in common, but you and I both have things we’d rather keep under wraps. In my case, the whole issue with your brother. In your case…” he gestured around him. “Well, I don’t need to be the one to tell you that stealing is illegal, do I?” 

Tommy’s face paled slightly. “No.” 

Quackity’s grin grew, predatory. He felt like Schlatt, he felt powerful. “Perfect,” he purred. “Now, how about this- I need some information from you about someone you’re close to. Nothing much, just a little bit about where he came from. You’ll give me that information freely, and not breathe a word of me being here to your older brother. In return, I let you and your little friends here carry on using your five finger discount, and I don’t tell Wilbur.” 

Tommy looked like he was waffling, unsure of the right answer. 

Quackity frowned. “Of course, I could always go straight to Niki as well. You know what happens to thieves here who steal again and again, right?” He leaned a little closer to the tall boy, finally on the offensive. His frown became a sickening grin. “They cut their hands off. It’s a little hard to hold your sword with no hands, don’t you think,  _ Tommy? _ ”

The young boy looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

“Besides,” Quackity continued, sparing the other two kids a dismissive glance, “It would be such a shame for you to drag your friends down with you… I would hate to see them in the same position you are, just for following your lead.” He sighed, overdramatic. “But justice must be served, I suppose. I would be neglecting my civil duty, not to turn thieves in to the people who could sort them out.” 

“Fine, okay!” Tommy hissed in alarm. “We won’t tell anyone you’re here! Who do you want to know about?”

Quackity hummed happily. His grip on the pickaxe tightened. “I want to know everything you know about Dream.” 

Tommy scoffed a little. “What do you want to know? He’s George’s- er, the king’s personal knight, he says he’s six foot three but I’m taller than him, he’s lived in Traumreich for like eight… nine years, he’s hopelessly in love with George, he’s-”

“Wait, what was that last one again?” Quackity asked him. 

“He’s hopelessly in love with George?” 

“What? No.” Quackity shook his head.  _ That’s interesting though.  _ “The one before that.” 

“He’s lived in Traumreich for eight years?” Tubbo cut in. 

Quackity’s entire face split into a wide grin.  _ “Yes.  _ Where did he come from?” __

“Yeah... no one really knows where he came from,” Tommy said. “I know he arrived at night on horseback, but that’s really it. The last person to really know was King George the  _ first, _ and, well…” 

“He’s been dead for months now!” Tubbo chimed in again helpfully. 

Quackity was buzzing a little.  _ Could it really be this easy?  _ “Tell me, kid, where did Dream get that scar of his?” he asked him. “The one on his temple. Was it training? Did he take a bad tumble down some stairs, perhaps?” 

Tommy furrowed his brows. “I- he’s had it as long as I’ve known him,” he said, but he sounded uncertain. He turned to Tubbo a moment, who just shrugged. “I don’t think he’s ever mentioned where he got it.” 

It was all Quackity could do not to burst into relieved laughter. “That’s lovely,” he said. “Simply exquisite.” He must have made quite the maniacal sight, with the scar slashed through his lips and the slightly deranged look in his eyes. He felt loose, like the threads holding him in place had been snipped and he was dangling freely. 

“You won’t tell anyone about the stealing now, right?” Tommy asked him anxiously. 

Quackity cocked his head. “Of course not, Tommy, we’re  _ friends  _ now.” He smiled at the other boy, delighting slightly in the way he shrunk away from his jagged smile. “But I am going to need you to do one more thing for me, okay?” 

\-----

Puffy stood outside of Schlatt’s room, back rigid, eyes straight ahead. If she didn’t move, if she didn’t breathe, she could almost see herself as a statue. Schlatt sat somewhere behind that door, content in the protection he’d ripped from L’Manberg’s past king and queen. 

That thought hurt her head. She’d been the queen’s personal knight until the day she’d died, having practically grown up with the woman, having sat through all of her royal drama. Rose had been a beautiful woman, with big green eyes and long brown hair. She’d been kind and strong and a touch crazy in the best way, and she’d been Puffy’s best friend for as long as she’d known. 

If Puffy hadn’t been with her best friend’s son that fateful night eight years ago, helping him into the saddle of their fastest horse, Rose might have survived. 

Her throat closed up at the thought. Rose had begged her, pleaded with her to get her son to safety, to get him as far away from here as possible. He’d been so frightened, green eyes blown wide with terror and blood already trickling down the side of his face. She couldn’t have said no.

Puffy had taken him from her without a second thought, leaving her best friend and her husband to their deaths, surrounded by what remained of their royal guard. She’d bundled the little boy up, holding his tear streaked face in her hands and kissing his forehead. She’d given him a letter to give to King George and sent him away, to Traumreich, L’Manberg’s closest ally at the time.

When she’d gotten back to the throne room, Rose’s empty green eyes were staring into nothing at all, red weeping from the wounds in her chest. Her body had been cast aside like a rag doll, laid overtop of her husband’s prone form. Schlatt turned around at her arrival, fixing his sharp smile on her and wiping his blade on the front of her best friend’s shirt. 

It had been all she could do to sink to her knees, body paralized with horror and hatred for the man in front of her. 

“Oh! A surrenderer,” Schlatt’s voice was silky smooth. “How delightful.” 

Her limbs had screamed at her to get up, to move, to avenge her best friend’s death. She couldn’t do anything. 

Schlatt’s eyes had locked onto the insignia on her chestplate, and his smile had only grown. “Welcome to the cause,  _ Captain.”  _

\-----

He slipped back into the crowd, coming to a stop beside Karl. “What did I miss?” 

“Not much,” Karl muttered back to him. “King George is almost done with his speech.” 

“Excellent,” Quackity muttered, fixing the rim of his beanie. 

As he stared up at Dream, a smile began to stretch across his face. He had his dad’s jawline, dusty blonde hair, and general build, but his eyes were his mother’s. His careful gaze flicked over the scar on his temple, a jagged reminder of just how close he’d come to death. 

_ Welcome home, little prince,  _ Quackity thought,  _ We found you… We finally found you... _

_ Oh, Schlatt is going to be so pleased.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we'll be back to George's POV next chapter! :)
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just a heads up there's a would you rather question in this speculating super minor body horror when Sapnap and Dream are talking. Stay safe! :)
> 
> Thank you all so much for 1k hits by the way! You all are amazing!!! <3

Dream was an early riser because George was an early riser. He had been for many years now, and as his personal knight, Dream had to follow suit. He absolutely hated it. As his green eyes opened at the first crack of dawn, Dream let out a small groan and rolled over in his bed, throwing his arm up to block at the sun. 

Then again, George used to be on the other end of the spectrum, so he supposed that waking up early wasn’t half as bad as it could be. He could have to stand outside of George’s door until two in the afternoon, just waiting for the young king to emerge from his slumber. 

A rooster crowed in the distance. It was the second day of the festival, and there was work to do. 

Dream hated leaving the warmth of his bed, but with one final, regretful look, he slid out of it and started getting ready for the day, running his schedule over in his head. There were two events today, both of which George had to sit and watch, as was his duty as king and host. One was a javelin throw, which he knew Sapnap would be participating in. The second was a sharpshooting competition, but that wasn’t until much later in the day. George would be taking part in that, as would Niki. There would be time around noon for him to wander with Sapnap and George, having fun and goofing off like all of the years past… right? 

He shrugged the rest of his armor on, running his fingers through his hair absentmindedly as he gave himself a once over. Snatching his sword from where it leaned against the corner of his bed, Dream sheathed it in one smooth motion and left his room. 

He knew the layout of the castle as well as any servant by this point, having part of his childhood and all of his teenage years sneaking around it with the prince himself, and the walk to George’s room was one he may have well have worn into the stone by this point. Not too far away, but not to close either. 

Three sharp knocks on the door later and it opened, revealing a sleepy George, still blinking sleep from his eyes. Dream felt his heart skip a beat as George let out a tiny yawn that ended in a purr, stretching his arms in front of him. “Mornin’,” he greeted Dream. 

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Dream replied, hiding his blush with a smirk. “Late night?” 

George pouted at him. “They kept me up all night talking about L’Manberg and Schlatt’s threats. You’d think they’d cut me some slack during the most stressful event of the year.” He motioned Dream into his room sleepily. “C’mon, I still need to get ready.” 

Dream followed him wordlessly, sliding the door shut behind himself and leaning against it as he watched George busy around his room, waking up. “I can’t believe they found the threat of our dictator next door more important than this grand display of peace!” He sent George a look. 

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m grumpy and tired,” George replied, “I know, I know. First world problems.” 

Dream laughed a little. “Just a bit.” 

“I just- ugh! They say they have everything under control and that I shouldn’t worry myself about him and then they drag me into long overnight meetings and talk cryptically about the movement of his armies and what strategic reasoning he must have to attack Pogtopia.”

“Oh?” Dream cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Mmh,” George nodded, busying himself in his mirror, smoothing the front of his shirt and letting out a short huff of anger as the wrinkles refused to magically go away. “They brought in a fucking cartographer, to explain all of the mountains in Pogtopia and why it was the least strategical choice to attack. Jack was going on and on about how their manpower was lacking, but they were still the most easily defendable kingdom of all of them, except for maybe the Arctic Empire. Everyone thinks we’re missing something, that there’s no way Schlatt would just choose the hardest kingdom to overthrow at random and threaten them.” 

“Wow,” Dream replied, thinking through the logic. “That’s really interesting.” 

(Somewhere, across the continent, Schlatt’s ears were burning. They weren’t missing anything, he just hadn’t considered the topography of the land when he declared war on Pogtopia.)

George just snorted. “Well, you can take my place at the next one, I hated every second of it.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Dream replied with an easy grin. This banter was why he and George got along so well, they just clicked. It made the jealous fire in his heart burn a little less bright. He and George were so obviously a pair, even if they weren't together. “Sounds like so much fun, I just might have to lock you in your room and take your place. See what all the fuss is about for myself.” 

“Yeah right,” George shot back at him. “You wouldn’t go that far. You’d miss my pretty face too much.” 

And just like that, the air was punched out of him. George had disarmed him with a single slice, simple words that meant nothing to him and everything to Dream. 

“I- uh, yeah right,” Dream shot back.  _ Friends, you’re friends. Things are going back to normal,  _ he reminded himself.  _ No matter how many flirty looks he sends you, no matter what you both want, things are going back to normal. Things are going to be normal, because that’s what George told you he wants.  _

George, for what it was worth, seemed to notice something was off as soon as he’d replied. “Oh,” he whispered, turning around guiltily. “Oh, Dream, I’m so-” 

“Don’t apologize,” Dream replied quickly. “It’s fine, just move on.” 

George looked incredibly uncomfortable. “Right,” he whispered. He was holding something in his hands, and he fiddled with it as he stood there, clearly debating what to do next. “Well, I’m ready to go…” 

“Good.” Dream swallowed, his throat closing up a little. “That’s good.” 

  
“Um,” George started again, no longer making eye contact. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to or not this year, since, you know…” he trailed off, biting his lip. “But… friendship token?” He shoved what he was holding in his hands at Dream, who barely caught the tiny flash of blue in time. 

His cheeks colored immediately, looking down at it. 

_ He was fifteen, and George was seventeen. The two of them were sitting up at the top of the stands, having escaped George’s family to watch the festival from as high up as they could get away with. Dream’s stomach was turning uncomfortably at that fact, but George had wanted to, and he would have done anything to see George’s smile. Four years later, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo would sit in that very same spot, but neither of them knew that yet.  _

_ “You know,” George said conversationally, eyes focused on the clash of swords below them, “the fights aren’t nearly as interesting as what happens after.”  _

_ Dream, who was technically on duty as a knight right now, gave his friend an incredulous look. “What?”  _

_ “Watch,” George nodded to the field, watching as the knight in navy blue, Traumreich’s colors, disarmed his opponent, thrusting his sword into the air in triumph, before helping his opponent to his feet. As the two knights walked off, the navy clad one was practically tackled by a woman, a proud grin on her face and her eyes sparkling with happiness. She wore green, and her auburn hair popped against the silver highlights on her skirt.  _

_ Dream squinted in confusion. “She’s not from Traumreich. Why is she so happy? Shouldn’t she be consoling the knight from Pogtopia, not congratulating the knight from Traumreich?”  _

_ George laughed at him, though not unkindly. The light sound made butterflies flutter in his chest “Festivals are about more than just fighting, Dream. They’re about fostering good relations with people from all the kingdoms. Meeting new people, making friends. Can’t you see it? The two of them are in love.”  _

_ Dream squinted back down at the knight and the girl again, shaking his head. “No way, you don’t know that.”  _

_ “Yes I do,” George replied stubbornly. “Look at the green tie around his arm.”  _

_ “That proves nothing,” Dream said with a shrug. “People wear stuff like that all the time.” _

_ George just shook his head, laughing that infuriatingly pretty laugh again. “That’s a token, Dream. She clearly gave it to him so he could wear her colors.”  _

_ Dream cocked his head. He’d never heard of that before.  _

_ “Think of it like this,” George said, turning to face him, “It’s a way for her to be there and show her support for him in front of everyone, and it’s a way for him to know that he has someone in his corner, who wants him to win. Accepting a token from someone is a mutual show of love and affection.”  _

_ “Huh,” Dream said, turning back to the fighting. The next match had started while the two of them were bickering. A long moment passed where neither of them said anything. George took a small swig of his drink. “I’d like a token,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.  _

_ George almost spit out his water. “Sorry?” the prince asked him, a small grin on his face. “What was that?”  _

_ Dream could feel his cheeks coloring already. “Not now, obviously! But I’ll be able to participate in the Festival games when I’m seventeen, I’d like a token then.”  _

_ “I see, I see.” George was still grinning at him. “Is there a particular someone you’d like to receive a token from?” His voice had taken on an almost teasing lilt. Dream didn’t like that.  _

_ He hummed to himself for a moment, mulling over how to respond. “No, not really,” he finally responded. Then, he had a thought, perking up. “Maybe you can give me a token!”  _

_ This time, George really did spit out his water. “W-what?” he asked him, whipping his head around to look at the young knight. “But we’re not together!”  _

_ That thought made Dream frown, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. “No…” he agreed, a bit sadder than he would have expected. “No, I suppose we aren’t.” _

_ There was another moment of silence between the two of them, during which Dream pretended to be thoroughly invested in the fight in front of him. (If he was being honest, it had already lost its appeal to him. George’s words were bouncing around his head.) _

_ “You know,” George replied, far too conversationally, “If you really wanted, I could give you a token when you compete. Nothing flashy, just... for you to have.”  _

_ It was Dream’s turn to glance over quickly, hoping and praying that he didn’t come off as too eager. “Really?”  _

_ “Not as a romantic thing, you idiot!” George sounded flustered, waving his arms a little. He was cute when he was like this. “Just as like a…” he paused. “A friendship token.”  _

_ “A friendship token.” Dream thought about it. Finally, a big grin split across his face. “I like that idea.”  _

_ “Oh.” George looked a little surprised. “Good. Me too.”  _

_ Two years later, as Dream stood prepping for his first round of jousting, George had pressed a small, navy blue bracelet into Dream’s hand, wishing him good luck and departing as swiftly as he had come. Neither of them said anything, but Dream kept the small bracelet tucked under his shirt sleeve the entire Festival, heart swelling with emotions he couldn’t quite name.  _

“Oh,” Dream breathed, snapped back into the present as he looked at what he was holding, recognizing what it was immediately. “George, this is your mother’s.” 

George shrugged defensively. “Yeah, I know. You don’t have to take it, it’s fine. If it’s gonna make it weird I can just-” he reached back out, but Dream took a step away from him with a smile. “Oh,” he whispered breathlessly, looking up at him. “Okay then.” 

Dream tucked the golden chain under his shirt, feeling the little blue pendant stopping to rest on top of his sternum. 

“Sorry I didn’t get it to you in time yesterday,” George continued, in that same breathless tone. “It was so hectic.” 

Dream smiled down at him. He could not have cared less in that moment. 

He stood with Wilbur for the first game, cheering on Sapnap and watching as he crushed the rest of the competition at javelin throwing. George seemed pleased to be out in the open air, and his cheeks were flushed pink from cheering by the end of the round. 

“Can we get food?” Dream murmured in his ear, as soon as the last competitor left the field. 

George turned his big brown eyes on Dream, guilt clouding them. “I have a thing with Niki, Eret, and Phil,” he replied softly. 

“Oh,” Dream nodded. “Right.” He felt dumb. Of course George had more to do now that he was king, he’d known something like this would happen. 

“Wilbur’s gonna be there,” George said tentatively. “So you can go find Sapnap if you want. I don’t think he’d like it if we both ditched him this year.” 

Dream let out an annoyed hum. “I don’t like leaving you with just Wilbur.”

George pursed his lips together, biting back whatever initial response he would have given. “I know,” he muttered. “If I had a choice…” 

There it was again. ‘If he had a choice.’ Dream could feel a wave of irrational anger welling up inside of him. “I get it,” he said. “Have fun at your meeting, I’ll go find Sapnap.” 

George sounded tentative. “Tell him I said congratulations.” 

“Will do.” Dream crushed the anger stewing inside of himself. That wasn’t fair to George, he was doing his best with the hand he had been dealt. Somehow, that sentiment didn’t make him feel any better. 

Sapnap looked delighted. He was sweaty and gross and absolutely glowing with excitement after his win. Dream told him as much. 

“Come on, dude, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!” were the first words out of Sapnap’s mouth as soon as he finished insulting Dream right back. 

The two of them were walking around, gnawing on greasy chicken wings and talking about nothing in particular. 

“So,” Sapnap said, “Would you rather… have fingernails for eyeballs, or eyeballs for fingernails?” 

Dream made a face, chewing and swallowing his chicken. “What the  _ fuck  _ kind of question is that, dude?” 

Sapnap just laughed. “Dunno, was thinking about it when I woke up this morning.” 

Dream huffed out a deep laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you.” 

“Just answer the question, dude,” Sapnap replied, but he was stifling laughter as well. 

“Is there a ‘neither’ option?” Dream made a face. Sapnap just stared back at him, unimpressed. “Fingernails for eyeballs, I guess? If I had eyeballs on all of my fingernails wouldn’t they get dirty? I wouldn’t be able to touch anything!” 

“You’d trade your sight just because of that?” Sapnap cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re crazy!” 

“What, and you’d plan on just not touching anything ever again?” Dream shot back at him. “You’re even crazier than I am!”

“No, I could still touch things!” Sapnap declared, “I’d just learn to use my feet instead!” 

“Gross,” Dream laughed, “You’re so gross.” 

A small body shoved between the two of them, stumbling and falling in the dirt. 

“Oh!” Dream exclaimed, tripping over himself briefly before turning to help the other person up from where they were sprawled on the ground. 

Sapnap was not as lucky as Dream was. “My chicken!” he cried out, in a tone that would usually imply that he’d lost a close loved one. 

Dream wordlessly passed the chicken he was holding to his friend, bending over and offering his hand to the boy on the floor, currently rolling over and groaning slightly. 

Green eyes met brown. The boy accepted his outstretched hand with a grateful smile, pulling himself to his feet. “Sorry, should have been looking where I was going.” 

“It’s really nothing to worry about,” Dream replied with a smile. 

“It is too!” Dream rolled his eyes at Sapnap’s muffled protest from behind him. “I dropped my chicken!” 

“Still,” the boy replied. “Should have been paying more attention.” His eyes mapped out every inch of Dream’s face, and a prickly feeling began to tickle the back of the blonde’s neck. Even as he stood there, a smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. He was missing a tooth.

“Well,” Dream replied, feeling a bit awkward, “Take care.” 

“You as well, Dream,” The boy replied, a grin rippling across his face. “Take care indeed.” 

He stooped down, picking up a large, dark pickaxe from the ground and starting to walk away, whistling a tune that seemed almost hauntingly familiar. A chill ran up Dream’s spine. 

Dream turned back to Sapnap who was still eating his chicken, watching the two of them with a strange expression. 

“Was that just me or was that weird?” Dream asked him. 

“No, that was definitely weird,” Sapnap agreed, chewing and swallowing another bite of chicken. “Did you see his gnarly looking face scar?” 

“Mmh,” Dream agreed, distracted. He couldn’t place the whistling in his head, but he felt like he was supposed to. “I was more focused on that song he was humming at the end there. Did you recognize it?” 

Sapnap hesitated a moment. “Naw, dude, sorry. It’ll probably come to you as soon as you go to bed tonight or something.” 

“Right,” Dream replied. “That makes sense...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm changing the title of this fic next time I upload a chapter! I wanted to give everyone like a day or two of buffer time, but now that I have the ending completely fleshed out I'm changing the title to be more appropriate! "What Are We Doing?" was literally just supposed to be a placeholder google docs title, but it somehow became the title of the work! That being said- it's changing soon. More appropriate. Better. :)
> 
> Hope you all have been enjoying the story!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, this one isn't my favorite, more filler than anything else. Hope you enjoy!

Of all of the childhood memories involving his father, George’s favorites always included the two of them out on the archery range. There was seldom a time where the two of them were more in sync, more at ease in one another’s presences. Archery was the connection between them that they were lacking, a common interest that gave them the excuse of spending time together with no tension between them. 

George’s mother had been the one to give him his first bow, but his father had been the one to teach him to use it. 

He’d taken to archery like a fish to water, a fact that never ceased to make his mother gasp in delight and his father spare a single proud smile in his direction. Whenever he was angry or pissed off or just plain tired, he would head to the field behind the castle and shoot at hay bales until the buzzing in his head cleared and he could think straight again. 

When George had been forced to compete in festivals in the past, he’d always chosen trials and games related to archery. So this year, he chose an archery related trial once more to try his hand at. After all, as host, it would be rude of him to not participate in at least one of the games. It  _ was  _ tradition.

He thumbed over the carvings on his bow as he sat there, waiting for his turn on the pitch. They were crude and non-symmetrical. While his mother had possessed many wonderful talents, steady hands was not one of them. 

His name echoed over the field, a title holding him to a standard he felt he couldn’t keep. It was suffocating. Everyone’s eyes were on him as he pulled the string of his bow taut, fingers just barely brushing the skin of his cheek. Their hungry gazes seemed to bore into him, gnawing at his insides and leaving him nothing but skin and bones, the rejected skeleton of a man. People wanted to see him succeed, wanted to see him fail. It didn’t matter what he did, someone was going to end up disappointed with his actions. 

Dream’s eyes were on him. 

His knight stared at him like he held the stars in his hands, like he was the sun his world revolved around. He stared at George like his success was inevitable, like George could do no wrong. It was exhilarating, to have someone place so much trust in him without a second thought. Dream stared at George with a smile on his face and with unabashed, unapologetic love.

Everything around him faded into white noise.

_ Well, if someone was going to be disappointed no matter what he did, George should at least make sure that person wasn’t himself.  _

He let the first arrow fly, whistling through the open air and striking its target with a force unparalleled. George allowed himself a smile, satisfaction curling in his chest. One down, two to go. 

Quickly, so as not to waste more time than necessary, he notched a second arrow. The best thing he could do was to try his best in this moment. 

Worst comes to worst, he’s just lost a competition. There are worse things in the world.

He does lose. He loses to Niki, but only just barely. The young queen had won the competition by no more than a hair’s width, her aim only a breath truer than his. She accepted her win with a graceful mask of a smile. It never left her face, no matter how much the crowd roared and stomped. George hadn’t realized just how competent with a bow his betrothed was, until she had swept his win out from under him with nothing more than nimble fingers and a soft giggle. 

He accepted his loss with grace equal to hers, and exchanged a fast paced whisper of a conversation discussing a rematch at a later date. The bright spark of friendly competition between them had been an integral part of their friendship for as long as George could remember.

Dream swept him into his arms as soon as George was off of the field and out of sight of the general population, Sapnap next to him. 

“Dream!” George laughed as the knight spun him around jovially. “Put me down!” 

“Nope!” Dream sounded delighted. “You’re staying in my arms!” 

George flushed at that.  _ “Dream.” _

The blonde didn’t seem to notice, just giving him another excited twirl, despite George’s squirming. Sometimes, the king loved the height difference between the two of them. This was one of the times that he hated it. 

“Nice one, dude!” Sapnap said when Dream finally set him down, giving George an easygoing grin. “You crushed it out there!”

George offered him a small smirk. “So you  _ can  _ be supportive when you want to, you just choose not to, huh?” 

“Piss off,” Sapnap rolled his eyes fondly. “You sucked ass, I just didn’t want to make you butthurt.” 

George rolled his eyes. “Yes, Sapnap, thank you for your consideration.” 

The three of them were walking now, a pace somewhere in between Dream’s comically large stride and George’s stiff, short one. Even as the sun set, the energy of the festival didn’t die down, and vendors were beginning to light their evening lanterns. The streets were cast in a soft orange glow that George couldn’t quite see, but Sapnap and Dream assured him was quite beautiful. 

“Would you like to partake in an alcoholic beverage, your Highness?” Sapnap motioned to one of the nearby pubs, where a steady stream of people were making their way through the spruce doors. 

George snorted. “I’m not a big drinker and you two aren’t technically old enough to drink yet.” 

“Oh, so we’re old enough to die for the kingdom but we aren’t old enough to drink wine?” Dream snorted. “Some kind of laws this dumb place has.” 

That made something twist in George’s chest, and he frowned. He didn’t want to think about Dream or Sapnap dying. “Don’t say things like that.” 

Whatever Dream’s response would have been was overpowered by Sapnap’s, said with a predatory grin. “What, you think something like a little age restriction really keeps anyone from drinking? Those laws are ancient anyways, some bullshit about brain development. No one really enforces them. I drink all the time.” 

“Oh, it all makes sense then,” George replied dryly. “And all this time, to think I was asking myself ‘how is he so dumb?’ when the answer was in front of me all along!” 

Sapnap rolled his eyes, but the tilt of his smile betrayed him. “God, you’re such a bitch.” 

“Takes one to… know one…” George trailed off. Sometime during their conversation, Dream had dropped away, the knight now standing a few feet off to their left and talking to some woman. 

Sapnap followed George’s slightly confused gaze and cocked his head. “C’mon,” he motioned with his head, and he and George walked over to join Dream. 

“Hey there Delilah,” Sapnap waved as they got closer. 

The girl turned, smiling genuinely at the two of them. “Sapnap, hi!” Her back stiffened slightly as she made eye contact with George. “Your Highness.” 

George smiled at her, perhaps a bit coldly, but he waved off the honorific. “Please, right now I’m just George. Any friend of my knight is a friend of mine.” 

“Right,” Delilah replied with a smile. “Just George.” She turned back to Dream then, and George felt the curling of white hot jealousy begin to tighten in his stomach. He looked her up and down as unsuspiciously as possible. Delilah’s hair was in twin french braids, long, wavy, and about the same shade as his. She also wore the classic armor of a knight of Traumreich, navy chestplate matching the ribbons at the ends of her braids. “So, uh, yeah.” She suddenly seemed bashful. George didn’t know anything about her, but this seemed somehow out of character. 

“What were you trying to say again?” Dream smiled down at her and George ground his teeth together, a shitty imitation of a smile. 

Next to him, Sapnap nudged his shoulder. “Down, boy,” he muttered. 

“Shut up,” George replied, barely more than a whisper. 

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping out so much with all of the new trainees,” Delilah said to Dream, a soft smile on her cherub-like face. “You’ve been so patient with all of them, and you really couldn’t have chosen a more perfect time to help us all out.” 

“Thank you, Sapnap, we’re happy you’ve devoted your life to this, Sapnap,” Sapnap muttered from where he was standing next to George, meaning it was his turn to give the knight an elbow to the ribs. 

“Of course, I’m happy to help,” Dream replied, and George became acutely aware of the small distance between the two knights. He graced her with another of his bright smiles, the ones he usually saved for George. “Was that what you wanted to discuss?” 

“Oh, no,” Delilah said with a small grin. “I actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to accept a token from me. I know it’s not common to ask this late, but, you know...” 

George could feel the world come to a stop around him. Next to him, Sapnap sucked in a quick breath of air. 

“Oh.” Dream’s entire face flushed a brilliant red. “Oh!”

“Yeah,” Delilah said with a shy smile. “I think you’re super sweet and nice and you know… it never hurts to ask, right?” 

If he was holding a glass, it would have shattered in his hand. George could feel the rush of anger thrumming through his veins, white hot fury that burned him to his bones. Delilah was still smiling that same innocent smile, unaware of what her actions were doing. He had half a mind to have her arrested on the spot, no matter how irrational it was. She hadn’t done anything wrong… technically...

“Right.” Dream looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m really sorry… I’ve already accepted a token from someone.” 

Delilah was always waving her hands in the air, a smile on her face. “No worries, no worries, dude.” 

“I just- I just feel bad.” Dream winced. 

“I already said, no worries!” Delilah seemed genuine enough, but George inched a little bit closer to Dream’s side as she continued speaking. “You’re cool, dude, we’re cool. I’ll see you guys tomorrow for the races, okay?” 

“See you tomorrow, Delilah!” Sapnap waved cheerfully, and with a wave of her own, she was turning, disappearing into the crowd. 

“Who was that?” George asked Dream, despite having a pretty good idea already. He tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible. He did not succeed. 

“Just another knight,” Dream replied, “She’s nice, we train with her sometimes.”

“Well I’ve never met her,” George replied, not making eye contact. “And I don’t think either of you have brought her up before.” 

Dream snorted a little. “George,” he asked, “are you  _ jealous?”  _

“What?” George huffed, “No, don’t be ridiculous.” 

  
Dream was grinning, he could hear it in his voice. “You  _ are  _ jealous, George! You are!” He let out a small cackle of delight. “I never thought I’d see the day! I can’t believe it!”

“Believe it,” Sapnap advised him with a grin. 

“Shut up,” George muttered, tugging at his sleeves and trying to hide the furious flush on his face. “Like I would get jealous over someone like you.” 

Dream just shook his head, grinning and tugging George into his side. “C’mon, you’re such an idiot. You should know by now that I’ll always choose you.” 

George felt a tug at his heartstrings. He couldn’t find it in himself to shoot Dream a look, to warn him that he was blurring lines and crossing boundaries.

“Let’s go get absolutely wasted!” Sapnap butted in, and Dream let out a small whoop of his own, only for it to be swallowed by the dull roar of the crowd. The artificial lights were bright, the night was young, and George allowed himself a moment to just exist with his friends, pretending the arm around his middle hadn’t tightened protectively and the soft kiss Dream pressed into his hair was nothing more than a friendly touch. 

\-----

He really had to stop leaving Karl. Every time he stepped away from the clueless noble, something bad happened. He was beginning to get separation anxiety, honestly. 

This anxiety was not helped by the smothering hand clasped around his mouth as he was yanked through an open door. 

“Mmh!” By the time Quackity had gotten his bearings, the hand was gone and he was gasping for breath he never really lost. 

Bad stood in front of him, hands clasped and a solemn look on his face. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” Quackity made a face, pausing as he took in the sight of the royal advisor. “Who the fuck…?” 

Bad cut him off. “I know who you are and what you’re doing here.” Quackity’s heart skipped a beat, but Bad just continued, businesslike. “I work with Schlatt.”

That threw him for a loop. Curiosity was a better feeling than fear. “Sorry?” 

Bad sighed. “I work with Schlatt, and I know you do too. I report any information to him that could be considered useful, in return for special benefits.”

“Ah, you’re an underling.” Quackity nodded. 

Bad colored slightly, the flush of embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I work with Schlatt.” 

“No,” Quackity smirked, “You work  _ for  _ Schlatt.” 

“It’s not like you’re any better!” the other man snapped, his hands curling into fists. Quackity tilted his head at the sudden outburst. “Just because you’re his lap dog doesn’t mean you’re any better than the hounds he keeps chained up outside!”

That shut him up. He glared at the other man, hand drifting dangerously close to the handle of his pickaxe. “Fine. So maybe I am his lap dog. At least I’m on a longer leash than you are.”

Bad’s jaw tightened. “Just tell me the information you’ve collected, if any. I’ll get it back to him.” 

“And if I don’t?” Quackity challenged him. 

Bad gave him a grim smile. There was nothing friendly about the gesture. “I don’t know about you, but I like keeping my head on my shoulders.” 

“Touche.” 

“You’re really quite insufferable, aren’t you?” 

“I make a point of it,” Quackity replied with a curt nod. “The kid he’s looking for goes by Dream. He’s the king’s-”

“-the king’s personal knight.” Bad looked uncomfortable. 

“Yeah.” Quackity nodded. “Dream’s the prince. He’s the one Schlatt needs to kill. Or… Schlatt needs me to kill. Not sure on that part yet.”  _ Oh, the joys of being an executioner. _

“I’m sure he’ll give you instructions once I report this back to him,” Bad replied, looking a little like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Whether or not he wants to… terminate D-the prince himself or would prefer you to get the job done.” 

“Wonderful,” Quackity replied, trying not to roll his eyes. “Am I allowed to leave now, or are you keeping me captive until Daddy Schlatt tells you where to send me next?” 

“You’re allowed to go,” Bad replied, through gritted teeth. “I’ll find you again if I need you.” 

“Oh boy,” Quackity drawled, opening the door and slipping through it, “I can hardly wait.” 

Bad crossed his arms, a scowl on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, things have been WILD lately. I've been hearing rumors George and Sapnap might visit Dream in prison?? Is this true?? Will we be getting character development???
> 
> lol I hope you all liked the chapter! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait everyone! Between classes switching and everything else going on right now, I've been a little swamped. Hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

Bad got back to him on the fifth day of the festival. Honestly, Quackity hadn’t expected an answer that quickly, but this was Schlatt they were talking about. He hadn’t found a single person more obsessed, manipulative, and power hungry in his entire life. This prince, the rightful king to the kingdom of Manberg, had been the one kink in his plans, the one unchecked box on his list for years now. It was honestly a surprise they hadn’t found him yet, what with the apparently dramatic way he’d arrived. 

Tommy was waving at him, subtly enough to not be noticed by too many people in the crowd, but awkwardly enough that Quackity knew he’d never done anything like it before. 

“Hey, I’ve got to grab some food, you want anything?” he asked Karl, feeling a bit of distaste twist in his stomach at the thought of lying to his friend. 

Karl looked up, giving him a slightly disappointed smile. “No, go ahead. Take as long as you need, those lines are crazy today,” he replied. 

“Thanks.” Quackity smiled in relief, touching his shoulder briefly before slipping through the throng of people to get to Tommy. “Put your hand down, you idiot,” he hissed as soon as he was within hearing distance, dragging the other boy after him and ducking behind the stands. 

It was darker back here, and trash covered the dirt floor. It was so perfectly disgusting he almost laughed. The stands above them looked so much less sturdy from here; you didn’t realize how little support they actually had until you were underneath them. 

Tommy followed him obediently, wrenching his hand away and rubbing at the circle around his wrist when they came to a stop. 

“So?” Quackity asked him, leaning back on one of the support poles for the bleachers. “What is it then? I thought we were done. You got me all of the information I needed, I don’t tell the king about your sticky fingers, you don’t go running to your older brother or anyone else and tell them that I’m here.” 

Tommy looked uncomfortable, but he puffed up his chest all the same. “That’s the thing, Big Q- may I call you Big Q?” 

“No.” 

Tommy nodded. “Understood, Big Q. So, that’s the thing… You see, I don’t think we negotiated our last deal very fairly.”    
  
Quackity narrowed his eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

Tommy shrugged, trying and failing to act nonchalant. “I mean… I can live without my hands, but can you live without your head?” 

Quackity felt a rush of emotion, something between intrigue and fear.  _ Interesting.  _ “So when did you grow a spine, kid?” he asked him. 

Tommy ruffled his hair. “Since I did some research, found out who you are.” 

“Oh?” Quackity grinned, relishing the way Tommy’s eyes flicked to his scar, “And who exactly do you think I am, Tommy?” 

Tommy swallowed. “You’re Schlatt’s executor. His personal bitch. The Butcher. A knight of Manberg. Whatever you want to call yourself, I don’t care.”

Quackity nodded a little, no sense in denying it. It’s not like he was super inconspicuous. There were only so many people walking around with giant scars through their lips. “Interesting, I didn’t think you could read.” He paused, eyes flickering dangerously. “And now, knowing all of that about me, you still want to test me?” He relished the way Tommy’s eyes flickered with fear of his own. What could he say? His reputation preceded him. 

“No,” Tommy replied carefully, “I don’t want to do shit with you. I  _ want  _ to forget I ever met you, and I want to pretend I didn’t give you information that clearly meant a lot more than I thought it did.”

“Then why don’t you, kid?” Quackity smiled at him. “Why don’t you walk away and forget you ever tried to play hero? The king isn’t the only one that can take off your hands, you know…” 

Tommy glared at him, jutting his chin out, and  _ there’s that princely, authoritative look.  _ As much as Tommy wanted to deny it, he would always be a little bit royal at heart. “I can’t. I need you to tell me what happened between you and my brother.” 

“Need me to?” Quackity cocked an eyebrow. A sinking feeling was filling his stomach. Those were memories he’d rather not think back to. 

Tommy hesitated. “Want you to. I want you to tell me what happened between you and Technoblade,” he corrected.

It would be so incredibly easy to drive the pickaxe in between Tommy’s eyes, to leave his body crumpled and bleeding out on the floor. It would be so easy to walk away unscathed, to walk back to Karl with some weird Traumreichean delicacy, to wait for the horrified screams as the child’s body was discovered. It would be easy… but it would cause problems. Besides, he wouldn’t admit it aloud, but there was a part of him, maybe a larger part of him than he’d like to think about, that didn’t want to kill Tommy. 

Besides, he knew what Schlatt had planned now, all that was left was the wait. 

So instead he sighed, played along, sat cross legged on the floor in front of the other boy. “If I tell you the story will you leave me the fuck alone?” 

“No promises,” Tommy replied, tentatively mirroring his movements. “I want to know a lot.” 

Quackity narrowed his eyes. “I’m being generous by offering to tell you even this much. I could just kill you and be done with it.” 

“Then they’d all know something was wrong.” Tommy narrowed his eyes right back at him. “So it seems we are at an impasse.” 

“That’s a ten dollar word, where’d you pick that one up?” Quackity replied dryly. 

“Technoblade,” Tommy replied, bringing them back to the topic at hand. The name hung heavy in the air between them, like a tangible thing you could reach out and grab. Quackity just wanted to push it, shove it away and out of sight. 

“Fine,” he replied bitterly. “But I’ve come too far to be outed by a child. If I find out you’ve breathed a word of any of this to anyone, me, your brother, the information I wanted, you’re a dead man, got it?” 

“I want to know why you wanted information on Dream,” Tommy replied, a bit bolder than he should be. 

  
Quackity curled his lips back. “No. You get this story, or you get my pickaxe through your forehead.” 

Tommy flinched a little, boldness dissipating. “Fine.”

That earned him a smile. “Very well,” Quackity replied. “Now, the story of how I ended up with this pickaxe also happens to be the story of how I got this beauty.” He traced the outline of his scar, the pad of his finger just barely ghosting the edge of his misshapen skin. 

Tommy, as though he couldn’t help himself, leaned in slightly. 

“Schlatt had just instilled me as his executioner, maybe three years ago.” Quackity made a face. “I was your age.” 

“How old are you now?” Tommy asked him. 

“Twenty, and don’t interrupt me again.” Quackity paused, making a face. “Seriously? You can’t add seventeen and three?” 

Tommy mumbled something under his breath, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Whatever,” Quackity continued, “So I was seventeen, fresh faced and cocky. We have a lot more in common than you thought, huh?”  _ My entire family had just been murdered as well, but I’ll leave that part out.  _

Tommy made as though he were about to object, like he had on their first meeting, but after another warning look, he shut his mouth. 

“Seventeen, leading an army for a man everyone in the land despised. I was new to leading, and Schlatt was new to ruling. He had no advisors-”  _ he still has no advisors,  _ “-and was looking for a way to make a statement, you know? Do something that would leave all of the other kingdoms fearful and wary of his power.” 

“What did he do?” Tommy asked, sounding a little breathless. 

“What did  _ he  _ do?” Quackity huffed out a soft laugh. “He didn’t do shit. I went out, with expendable soldiers from the kingdom, and I kidnapped your adopted older brother.” 

Tommy made a face. “What? No you didn’t.” 

He chuckled a little at that. “You’re right, we didn’t. We didn’t even make it out of the Arctic Empire before he woke up. We had tranquilized him with something, some special potion, but apparently it’s not as effective on piglins as it is on humans. Some science bullshit about their blood dissolving unknown toxins quicker.” 

They stiffened as they heard cheering and whooping from the stands. It sounded like the next game had already started. Quackity took a moment to thumb at the hilt of the pickaxe again, collecting his thoughts. None of these were happy memories, the screams, the blood, the mad look in the Arctic Empire knight’s eyes...

“Schlatt had wanted to kidnap a heir to the Arctic Empire, and since you and Wilbur were God knows where, Technoblade was apparently the next best thing in his eyes.” Quackity knew he was bitter, but he was pretty sure he was entitled to it. “We had ambushed him while he was out getting supplies, not sure what exactly. The important thing is that he woke up as we were lugging him onto the boat.”

Tommy was silent, but his hands were clenched in front of him, knuckles white. 

“It was an absolute bloodbath,” Quackity said with a small shudder of his own. “He killed the man trying to drag him aboard like it was nothing, snapping his neck and tossing him into the icy water. It all went downhill from there.”

There was a small smile on Tommy’s face,  _ pride,  _ Quackity realized with a jolt. His lip curled back in disgust. Of course Tommy would be proud of his older brother. He didn’t know the people he’d killed, the lives he’d destroyed. He hadn’t watched these people’s lives crack and burn. He hadn’t known who they were before they’d had to work for Schlatt. 

“It would have been worse if he had his sword,” Quackity continued. “We’re lucky he only had tools on him. Axe… Shovel… Pickaxe.” 

Tommy’s eyes flashed down to the curved blades of the tool in Quackity’s lap, and the way the light reflected off the sharp edge. 

“He tore through men like they were nothing. We had fifteen knights and by the time we had taken his shovel we were down to two.” Quackity shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. He left the axe buried in my friend’s chest, and then it was just me and him.”

Tommy had come to rest his head on his hands, like this was some kind of twisted bedtime story. 

“Before, well,  _ this,  _ I used knives. I’m quick, light on my feet. I can be in and out before you even know I’m there, and I can leave a trail of slit throats and slashed wrists behind me. Good for sneaking in and out, bad for one on one combat.”

Tommy nodded, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I danced around him for a bit, slashing at where I could reach, going for the throat, tendons, your basic evade and chip away tactics.” He could see it in his head now, himself, panting and covered in a light sheen of sweat, and Techno, imposing, impossibly fast, reacting to where he moved before he could even move there. “He’s stronger and faster than anyone I’ve ever fought. I misstepped once, and his pickaxe caught me right here-” he motioned to the top of his scar, “-and kept going through here.” Finished, he flashed a smile at Tommy. 

“How did you survive?” Tommy asked him. 

“I almost didn’t. He kicked me into the water and I blacked out.” 

_ It had been so cold. The chill had knocked the air right out of his lungs, clutching at his chest with frigid fingers. His vision was spotty, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Blood bloomed in the dark water, spots of red joining the black.  _

_ Technoblade was staring into the water, staring down at where he lay, immobilized in pain and fear. A moment later, he turned and left, the sweep of the knight’s cloak barely perceivable through the cloudy water.  _

“I- I don’t get it. He just left the pickaxe?” Tommy looked confused. 

Quackity shrugged. “When I reached the surface he was gone. The bodies of my friends lay around me, disfigured, and this pickaxe was sitting in the middle of it all, bloody.” 

“Maybe he forgot it?” Tommy looked confused. 

Quackity shook his head. “No way. He took the shovel and the axe. It had to have been intentional.”

“I just- I don’t understand.” Tommy’s brows furrowed. 

Quackity sighed. As weird as the situation was, as horrifying as spilling his secrets to someone who could fuck up his life with a few words was, it felt good to finally say some of this stuff out loud. “I’m as clueless as you are, kid.” 

Tommy nodded, staring off into space for a moment. 

“Alright,” Quackity replied, pursing his lips, “You got what you wanted, now fuck off, kid.” He curled his arms around himself in a mockery of comfort, his brain flashing with images and memories he hadn’t thought about for years. It was nothing more than a cruel imitation of affection. 

Tommy’s gaze was focused firmly on the ground as he got up, not making eye contact. Good. He looked like he was about to say something, but again chose not to. 

When Quackity next looked up from his pickaxe, the young boy was gone. He wasn’t sure if he was going to keep quiet or not. He also wasn’t sure whether or not he cared about it anymore. 

Letting his head hit the bar behind him, Quackity let out a wobbly breath.  _ Shit.  _

He was so tired.

\-----

“Dream, I want to spar you.” 

Dream looked up from where he was sitting, George’s head on his shoulder, nose buried in a book. “What?” 

Tommy stood in front of him, nervous and jittery, nothing like the way he usually was when he asked Dream to fight. He was used to seeing the young boy bright eyed and cocky, nothing like the way he was acting now. That alone was what made him pause. 

“I’m a little busy here,” Dream said, motioning to where George’s head met the dip of his collarbone, the other boy snoring lightly. 

Tommy’s eyes flicked between George’s face and Dream’s, until finally, what came out of his mouth was nothing but a strangled little, “Please?” 

  
Dream’s brows furrowed. “Seriously? You’re not even going to tease me over being whipped? Where’s the usual joke about simping?” His voice dropped even lower, “Seriously, Tommy, are you okay?” 

Tommy hesitated. “Can you please just fight me?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Dream nodded. “Swords, or…”

Tommy nodded eagerly. 

“Okay just,” Dream looked down at George sleeping. “Just give me a second, okay?” 

Tommy snorted a little at that, looking a bit more like himself. “You  _ are  _ whipped, Big D.” 

“Shut up,” Dream replied with playful malice, but he dropped the tone as soon as Tommy flinched. “Sorry.” He very carefully reached over and detangled George from where he sat, arms wrapped around his middle and head in the crook of his neck. The young king let out a small noise of protest as the warmth was taken away from him, clutching sleepily at him. 

“Hey, shhh,” Dream said with a roll of his eyes. George had been so tired out lately, it wasn’t long after the games finished that he had curled up against the nearest source of heat and promptly fell into a deep slumber. Dream settled George against the worn wood of the bench as best he could, smiling and brushing his hair back from his face. 

“Dude, c’mon,” Tommy said with an eye roll, only a touch more desperate than normal. “You can declare your undying love for him through soft touches and pining looks later, get over here.” 

“We’re just going to spar in the middle of this field?” Dream gestured around them. They were in the middle of one of the many small fields that vendors had set up in at the beginning of the festival. Empty booths surrounded them, the dying sunlight glinting off of the colored coverings. 

“Do you have a better idea?” Tommy asked him, unsheathing his sword and swinging it around to get the feel of the weight again. 

“Not particularly,” Dream replied, dropping into a more defensive stance and raising his own sword. 

Tommy swung first, because of course he did. Dream blocked the blow quickly, the blade sliding off of his arm guard as he retaliated. 

The young boy had gotten better, that much was obvious. He’d clearly been training hard, and was applying what he knew. He was also giving it his all, an admirable quality. In the years that he’d known Tommy, Dream had never known him to half-ass anything. 

“So,” Tommy finally said, as their swords clashed once more, “What do you do when you don’t know what to do?” 

“That’s delightfully vague,” Dream replied, sidestepping a wild swipe from his opponent’s sword, “care to elaborate?” 

Tommy bit his lip. “Let’s say that someone tells me to do something, and I do what they tell me. But then I find out that thing is bad.” 

“That thing they told you to do is bad?” Dream clarified, lightly pressing his advantage as Tommy stumbled. 

The other boy nodded, even as he was backing up. “Yeah. And they tell me not to tell anyone about that thing being bad, but it’s bad. What do I do?” 

Dream felt a sinking feeling in his chest. “Well, what kind of bad thing are we talking about here? How bad really is it?” 

“Hypothetical.” 

Dream sighed. He didn’t believe that for a second. “Right.” 

For a while, the only sound was the clash of metal on metal. 

“I should tell people about the bad thing.” 

Dream looked up at Tommy. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, yes.” He slashed a little wide on purpose, smiling a little as Tommy jumped in while he was finishing his swing, hoping to land a hit. 

There was another lapse in conversation. Tommy still looked unhappy. 

“Do you think it’s the wrong decision?” Dream asked him, watching the way Tommy’s eyes jumped up guiltily to meet his. “Hypothetically, of course.” 

“I don’t think there’s a right decision,” Tommy replied tactfully (and when had he ever been tactful?). “I was so sure at first, but now…” He trailed off, sighing. 

Dream took the end of a hit, sword edge brushing against his chest plate before he turned away. “What changed your mind?” 

“I don’t think he liked the situation any more than I did,” Tommy replied. “He just needed the information. I don’t want him to-” He paused. “-I don’t want him to get in trouble for something I was told I could prevent.” 

“Okay,” Dream agreed, struggling to follow the situation a bit. “Then don’t tell anyone.” 

“But I don’t know who else could get… in trouble… if I don’t tell anyone about the bad thing.” 

“And he doesn’t want you to tell anyone?” Dream clarified again, receiving a nod in response. 

“I don’t know what to do, Dream,” Tommy said with a sigh. “I don’t know what the information meant, I don’t know what will come of it, I don’t-” he paused for a moment, which was a dumb move when in the middle of a swordfight, “Dream.” 

“Tommy.” Dream cocked an eyebrow. 

“I stole sweets from one of the vendors,” Tommy blurted out, and where the  _ hell  _ did that come from?

Dream blinked. He was having a really hard time following this conversation. 

Tommy looked more guilty than Dream had ever seen him. “Tubbo and Ranboo were there, but it was really only me, and-” 

Dream cut him off with a laugh. “You and everyone else, Tommy. Sapnap and I used to do that when we were your age too. You’re not special. One time, George accidentally let it slip to his mother, and she just laughed and gave us money to pay them back with.” 

Tommy looked alarmed. “The king didn’t cut off your hands?” 

Dream’s next laugh was more of a wheeze, and he struggled not to double over while Tommy was distracted and he had the advantage. “Oh  _ come on,  _ who told you that?” His laughter petered out when Tommy didn’t respond, biting his lip instead. “Tommy?” he asked quietly, “Who told you that?”

Tommy looked up at him, and Dream was alarmed to see tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “Dream,” he whispered, “I think I messed up…” 

Dream just swallowed, lowering his sword and waiting for Tommy to do the same before continuing. “Okay then,” he replied, voice soft, “Tell me what happened. For real this time. No more hypotheticals.” 

  
Tommy hesitated a moment more before nodding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for the long wait in between chapters! I just got my wisdom teeth out and it kicked my ass. But I'm back now, and I've been working on this chapter for a while now! Hope you enjoy!! :)

George woke up quickly, eyes snapping open as he came to with a strangled gasp.  _ Late, you’re late,  _ his father’s voice echoed in his head. “I’m up!” he cried out, feeling a rush of blood to his head. 

  
Dream and Tommy looked over at him, alarmed. 

“Hey there,” Dream said with a soothing smile, shooting Tommy a strange look before walking over to George. “Hey, you’re good. You don’t need to be anywhere, you aren’t missing anything.” 

_ You don’t need to be anywhere, you aren’t missing anything.  _ Those words were more grounding to him than anything else. George let out a small huff of relief, letting his head hit the wall behind him. 

As a kid, he had liked to sleep in. It was a guilty pleasure of his, one that his father absolutely despised. Between him being a heavy sleeper and his unwillingness to get up in time for anything, he missed almost as many important events and meetings as he had attended. By the time he was sixteen, it had been all but trained out of him. 

“What did I miss?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes and wrinkling his nose as his heart rate returned to normal. He could vaguely remember going out with Dream after the events, splitting some kind of roasted duck, and curling up next to the knight, drifting off into a light sleep, surrounded by warmth. 

“What, while you were snoring on my shoulder?” Dream smirked at the flush coloring his cheeks. “Not much, you were only asleep for a few minutes before Tommy came by. Wanted to spar.” 

“Right,” George replied, now standing up and brushing imaginary dirt off of his clothing. He squinted around them. “Where… are we?” 

Dream shrugged. “A ways away from the castle, some vendors set up over here. I think Purpled’s stand is the one off to our left.” 

“The purple one,” Tommy added unhelpfully. 

  
George made a face at the kid. “Thanks.” 

\-----

Niki stared down at the note in her hands. Bad had been running around looking for George when he’d stumbled across her. Apparently, since they were “to be wed and to share all estates, assets, and information,” she was just as good of an option as George to give important, possibly life crushing documents. 

Her thumb traced lightly over the red seal. She’d seen that before. Quickening her pace, she ducked between two servants heading to the kitchens with an apologetic smile. She had to find George as quickly as possible. 

It took her nearly thirty minutes. George was nowhere to be found in the castle, and apparently hadn’t been seen in hours by anyone. The last place she had to look was out in the fields by the stands, which was of course where he would be. Stumbling slightly, she came to a stop as she reached the small group. 

Dream was with him, which was unsurprising. Tommy was also with him, which was slightly more surprising. “George!” Niki called out, holding the letter out. 

George looked over at her, a mixture of confusion and sleepiness on his face. “Niki?” 

“Hello,” She said, a little breathless as she forced the letter into his hands. “You need to read this right now.” 

George glanced down at the strange letter. “What?” 

“It’s from Schlatt,” Niki replied, and watched with a grim sort of satisfaction as his face paled. 

Dream moved to George’s shoulder as he read the letter, mouth barely moving. 

_ To King George of Traumreich, _

_ So.  _

_ I see you’ve decided to side with Pogtopia. A foolish decision, to say the least. Word of your “traditional alliance” has finally reached my ears, and I am displeased to hear you would make such a reckless gamble to protect a nation you would so casually toss aside if not for their wealth, as well as harbor their prince as one of your own.  _

_ I have wealth as well, in Manberg. My army is on the move, having corrected their course accordingly. If you are so insistent on focusing our attention on your own people, then I will proceed as though you are the sole target of our attacks.  _

_ If you wish to spare your people you will surrender the prince that you have so wrongly hidden to me and greet me and my men with white flags waving. _

_ However, if you wish to fight me, be warned. I am coming to your lands, and I am going to raze them until nothing remains but ashes and dirt. Everything you care about will burn, and it will burn at my hand alone. You will see what comes to pass when you try to meddle with my conquest.  _

_ You have two days. The decision is yours. _

_ -Schlatt _

George’s hands were shaking. Dream’s larger ones reached over and covered the young king’s, but his hands were trembling as well. 

“What do we do?” George whispered into the open air. 

“What else is there to do?” Niki asked him, looking up at her betrothed and his knight. “We prepare for war.” 

The sixth day of the festival was filled with hushed voices and downcast gazes, sharp muttering and hushed rumors. Niki and George gave a speech declaring the war officially, keeping their heads high and their tones as level as possible as the people buzzed with newfound panic. 

Plans were put into action, royals and advisors met in groups as everyone scrambled to prepare for a full scale war in two days' time. People scrambled to get as far from the border as possible, heading for Traumreich’s southern coast, where the edge of their land met the open ocean. Scouts reported Schlatt’s army heading through the neutral zone, burning everything in their way and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. 

Niki watched George fall apart behind closed doors, folding into Dream’s embrace the moment the public’s gaze was off of them, letting the other man cover his body completely and hold him as he shook. She felt Wilbur’s hand on her shoulder, and she reached out to the connection, squeezing his calloused palm.

Eret came to them at noon on the sixth day. He was escorted into the war room by his adopted son, a fox hybrid named Fundy. The prince of Stolzshire gave Niki a tentative smile from where he stood, holding the king’s arm in a loose grip. 

“Eret,” Niki said with a smile of her own, as she stood from where she sat pouring over a map of the fields and trees of Traumreich. “Fundy. To what do we owe this pleasure?” 

Jack Manifold, Bad, and Skeppy continued to mutter quietly in the corner, discussing safe transport of civilians and numbers and probabilities. They’d been at it for hours now.

However, Dream, Sapnap, and Wilbur also looked up from where they had been sitting on the other side of the table, pouring over maps of the terrain. Their gazes were curious. George looked up as well from where he sat next at Dream’s side, though his eyes lacked the same spark as the others. 

Eret let out a slow breath. “What brings me here is the same thing that brings everyone everywhere these days.” 

“Schlatt,” George guessed, still not looking completely there. 

Eret just nodded, removing his shades. His pure white eyes stared out at Niki, somehow looking at her without actually looking. A small shiver went down her back. The blind monarch had a way of staring right through you without any vision at all. “Schlatt is a problem that my people would rather not deal with.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Sapnap said, tone accusatory. 

Eret turned his gaze from Niki to the new voice with a chilling smile. “It  _ means, _ Sapnap, that none of my men are prepared to die for a cause that we don’t believe in.” 

Sapnap’s face flushed with a sudden anger. “You’re just leaving?” 

“We wouldn’t even be here, on your land, if not for the Festival!” Eret shot back at him, straightening up to his full height. “I did my time with Schlatt, we don’t need any more of this-” 

“What do you mean you did your time?” Niki cut in, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “What do you mean you have done your time with Schlatt? How could you have done time?” 

Eret turned on her again. “What, you think Pogtopia was the first kingdom he threatened?” He scoffed. “My people live in open fields and plains, darling.”

_ Oh. Oh no. _

“So Schlatt got to you first. What are you then? Who’s side are you on?” Dream spoke up. Very subtly, Sapnap folded the tactical maps behind him over on themselves, hiding the marks they had been making on the faded paper.

Eret snorted. “Not yours, that’s for damn sure.”

Wilbur stood up, and moved to Niki’s side, staring down the blind monarch silently. Relief flooded through her at the simple motion. Wilbur had her back. All that considered, Niki’s tongue felt too big for her mouth. “So are you against us?” 

Eret hesitated at that. Fundy looked uncomfortable with this entire conversation. Finally, the monarch spoke. “I would prefer not to be, for the welfare of my people.”

“And are they your people, or Schlatt’s people?” Dream asked him. 

Eret’s gaze hardened. “They will  _ always  _ be my people. No dictator will ever take that from me. I just… refer back to him sometimes.” 

“You’re a puppet,” George cut in. It was the first time Niki had heard him speak in hours. 

“Better to be a puppet on a stage than a dead man,” Eret replied, cutthroat. “I’ve made my choices, and I think it’s time you come to terms with them.” 

“Fine. Get out of my kingdom,” George replied, jaw tightening. Dream had focused his full attention on his king now, a mix of emotions crossing his face. 

Eret shot him a large grin. It felt out of place. “With pleasure.” 

As he and Fundy left the room, everyone’s shoulders seemed to slump. 

“I suppose we can count Stolzshire out of our defense then,” Wilbur muttered to Sapnap, sharing a frown with his fellow guard captain. 

“It’s fine, they’re the better of the two options to lose,” Sapnap pointed out, running his fingers through his hair. “If Phil says he won’t help us though, we’re fucked.”

Tommy, who had been sitting in the corner slumped over until this point, shot up like he’d been struck by lightning. “Phil’s got to help us though, doesn’t he?” he asked, drawing attention to himself for the first time since they’d all settled in to plan. He’d begged and pleaded so loudly at first to be let in, but by this point Niki had almost forgotten he was even there. 

“We’re not sure right now, Tommy,” Wilbur confessed, biting his lip. “Declaring war is a big decision, and it’s not really like he’s got a reason to.” 

Tommy’s face flushed with sudden anger. “Well we’re his damned reason, aren’t we? I mean, fuck- if my kid was fighting in a war, I’d want to be there for him!” 

“Tommy, we’re not Phil’s only children,” Wilbur reminded him, his voice quietly chastising. “He’s got other things to worry about.” 

“We’re his only children by blood, that’s a bullshit statement!” Tommy scrambled to his feet. 

Wilbur looked like he’d been slapped. “That’s not fair, Tommy,” he whispered. “Not to us, not to Dad. He’s never played favorites, no matter who was related to him or not. Besides, we gave all that up when we were declared exiled.”

“Well maybe if he’d played favorites just once or twice we would have stuck around in his dumb kingdom, wouldn’t we?” Tommy snapped, and Niki caught the barest glimpse of shining tears in the teen’s eyes before he stormed past her and out of the room, shoving Wilbur as he passed. 

A different kind of silence followed Tommy’s departure. Niki stared after him, the sinking feeling in her stomach only growing. 

“Tommy-” Wilbur called, but it was feeble, like he didn’t really want Tommy to hear it. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, huffing in agitation. 

It was Niki’s turn to offer her hand on his arm, and he smiled down at her gratefully. 

“Do you really think Phil will go to war with us?” She asked him, taking note of the way her words echoed in the silent room. 

Wilbur frowned, pulling her into a hug. “I wish I could tell you that I think he will.” 

\-----

Tommy was sitting atop the tallest tower, watching what was left of the people of Stolzshire leave, following the winding trails that would lead them through Pogtopia and eventually all the way back to their home. The wind was lightly ruffling his straw colored hair, and the only sounds around him were the birds, chirping in blissful ignorance. 

“You’re gonna fall if you keep trying shit like this.” 

Scratch that, the only sounds were the birds chirping in blissful ignorance and whoever the fuck decided it would be a good idea to try and talk to him right now. 

“How did you find me?” he bit out, using one arm to wipe his face with a loud sniff. It came out more sad than angry. 

There was a presence next to him, the weight of another person sitting. A small hum. “It wasn’t hard. You used to do the same thing when you were younger too. Something about having the high ground.” 

He let out a small snort. “Are you here to chastise me too?”

Techno barked out a laugh. “Oh god no, what kind of older brother figure do you take me for? I’m here to cheer you up.” There was a brief pause, and then Tommy felt an awkward hand pat him twice on the head. “Don’t be sad.” 

“You suck at cheering people up,” he informed his older brother, making a face and shoving him gently. 

“Well you suck at keeping your temper and we all still love you, what’s your point?” Techno asked him.

“Touche,” Tommy just informed him dryly, sniffling again. 

Techno just hummed again, looking out over the departing Stolzshirians with a frown of his own. His oversized lower teeth poked out of the corners of his mouth as he watched them with a steady eye. “You get this from him, you know that, right?” 

“Get what from who?” Tommy asked bitterly. 

Techno gestured around them. “This bird shit, the whole sitting on rooftops thing, whatever you want to call it. Phil used to take you up on the roof as a baby, when you were crying late at night and wouldn’t stop. He’d just sit under the stars with you and rock you gently, and it would put you right to sleep.” Techno laughed. “That was a tactic I never quite mastered in all my years of babysitting.” 

Tommy flicked a pebble on the edge off of the roof. It fell in a graceful arc, landing on the worn cobblestone below. “Wilbur said Phil might not help us when Manberg attacks. He said Phil might leave like Eret did, take all of you and go back to the Arctic Empire.” 

“Travel doesn’t take a day, you know,” Techno replied. 

“You’d get far enough.” 

“Well,” Techno relented, “That may be true. But you’d be here no matter what, right kid?”

“Pogtopia is my home, if Pogtopia is fighting, then I’m fighting,” Tommy replied, putting as much force into his words as he could. 

Techno was already raising his palms in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, no need to bite my head off. I wasn’t trying to convince you to leave. Besides, you couldn’t go with us even if you wanted to.” 

Ouch. “Then what were you trying to do?” Tommy asked him. “Why are you here, really?”

“I came to cheer you up,” Techno tried again, but Tommy was shaking his head. 

“We both know you wouldn’t do that unless it was a matter of life or death, and even then, you’d still do a pros and cons list before deciding.” 

Techno cracked a grin at that. “Fair enough. Phil sent me to check on you.” 

“Oh, so he’s heard we might die without his help then, huh?” Tommy was bitter.  _ He couldn’t even be bothered to come check on me himself.  _ Not that Phil should come check on him, of course. He didn’t need him, the two had hardly spoken since the exile. It would be too little too late.

“He heard you got worked up about it,” Techno replied. 

Tommy nodded. “And he cared so much that he sent someone else to come check on me. Great. Top notch parenting.” 

Techno let out a small huff. “He cared so much he’s going to stick around. He went to go tell George and Niki and whoever else needs to know so they can let him in on what’s happening. He sent me to make sure you weren’t lonely.” 

Tommy looked over at him, eyes going a bit wide. 

  
Techno just rolled his eyes fondly. “Don’t give me that look. What, you thought there was any other way I’d willingly endure  _ you,  _ kid? You couldn’t pay me to spend time with you!” He bumped their shoulders in a way that was more affectionate than teasing. 

Tommy wiped one last tear from his eye, but he was grinning now, bumping back at Techno playfully. “You are the worst. Please die.” 

“I’m offended you would even insinuate that I  _ could  _ die.” 

\-----

Quackity was sitting in Karl’s room, nerves frayed and foot tapping with adrenaline he didn’t need right now. The Pogtopian noble was pacing back and forth in front of him, clearly trying to keep himself kind. Schlatt’s note sat heavy in his pocket, where it had lay since Bad had slipped it to him that morning, since before Traumreich and Pogtopia had announced they were declaring war on Manberg. 

“It’s fine, right?” Karl let out a short breath that trailed a bit into a hysterical laugh. “Everything’s fine. This is fine. I know what’s going to happen, everything is fine.” 

Quackity nodded, distracted and only half paying attention. He was counting the stones on the wall. 

“I mean, they said they were coming up with a plan to evacuate as many civilians as quickly as possible, and any Pogtopians that aren’t soldiers are allowed to go home as long as they stay away from the neutral zone and Manberg.” 

“So as long as you head northeast you should be fine,” Quackity said with a nod. “Just stay away from the conflict and you’ll be in the clear, no problems getting home.” 

“What?” Karl asked him, blinking with those big chocolate eyes. “No, I’m staying here.” 

“What?” Quackity repeated him, louder. “Are you crazy?”

“Well you’re staying, aren’t you?” Karl asked him. 

“Yes, but that’s different!” Quackity replied.  _ I have a job to do.  _ Unconsciously, his fingers reached down to brush at the edges of the frayed parchment in his pocket. It had been short, much shorter than the one sent to George, the way Schlatt’s letters to him always were.

_ Stay here, wait for the attack. Kill the king of Traumreich when it begins. Leave the prince to me.  _

_ -Schlatt _

“Well if you’re staying, I’m staying!” Karl replied. 

“You can’t!”  _ You’ll die.  _

“Is there a rule prohibiting me from staying?” Karl asked him, eyes narrowing challengingly. 

“No,” Quackity admitted. 

“Then it’s settled. Wherever you’re staying, I’m staying.” 

“Please don’t,” he whispered, the words sounding feeble and faded even to his own ears. 

Karl just smiled at him. It was a little sad. “You already know my answer to that.” 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Quackity finally muttered in defeat, putting his head in his hands. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m staying? I’m not a Pogtopian soldier either, you know.” 

“Well, would you tell me why you’re staying?” Karl asked him, giving him another of those  _ looks.  _

Quackity bit his lip. 

The other boy nodded. “That’s what I thought. I stand by what I said. If you’re here, I’m here.” 

“That’s a terrible decision,” Quackity told him, a last ditch effort. 

“Yeah,” Karl agreed, looking out the small window with a hopeful smile. A bluebird flitted past, chirping happily. “But I know you make the right decisions in the end.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happiness is stored in the Techno and Tommy brotherly interaction. 
> 
> I know this plot has a bunch of different character perspectives/plot, but I promise y'all are going to get some *interesting* Dream and George moments very very very very soon cause I've had them planned for ages now and am very excited to share. :D


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back, sorry for the wait on this one, this chapter gave me a bit of trouble! (It's also long enough I had to divide it up early, so we'll see what happens through that lol.) That being said, I think it could be one of my favorites throughout this entire work! So I hope you guys all love it as much as I do, you've been so sweet and amazing with the comments and kudos and everything and I just adore every single one of you <3

Schlatt had finally figured it out- he was tired. He wanted, but did not need a drink, and he should probably eat something eventually, but had no qualms with going hungry for the moment. Everything he had been working for was right within his grasp, just a half a day’s march away. 

A half a day’s march through the most scenic, picturesque forest ever. Disgusting. 

“How much longer?” he barked at his knight, frowning at her slight flinch. She always flinched when he spoke to her. He’d never admit it, but he missed Quackity. At least he liked to talk, even if it was the most annoying babbling he’d ever heard in his life. 

“Only a couple more hours now, Sir.” Puffy stared straight ahead, her hair bouncing lightly as her horse trotted. 

“And the scouts?” he pressed, “What have they found?” 

“Traumreich has began to set up a defensive line near the border, a mile or so outside the castle walls,” she replied. “Pogtopia and the Arctic Empire will aid them, though Stolzshire has done as you asked and retreated.”

Schlatt smiled a bit at that. Though they had never been able to gain any sort of upper hand in the out of the way Arctic Empire, Stolzshire was almost comically easy to bend to his will. All it took was one little assasination, and the new monarch practically waived their power right on the spot. Simple. 

“And how many are they?” he asked Puffy, almost lazily. 

“They are about three quarters the size of our army,” she replied. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Our?” 

“Your army,” she corrected, but Schlatt merely waved her off with a laugh. 

“Please, you may be my soldier, but I want this victory to be something we share, all of us. Me, you, Quackity, my other loyal knights.” His grin stretched across his face. “I’m going to use you to make history, Captain.” 

Puffy bit her lip. “I can’t wait to see it happen, Sir.” 

\-----

Tubbo was out on the front line when the first of Manberg’s soldiers crested the top of the hill. He heard them before he saw them, the muffled clatter of hundreds of horseshoes, the rhythmic stomping of thousands of men. There were shouts and yells from the soldiers all around him as they scrambled closer together, Sapnap’s voice echoing particularly notably across the open field. 

“What’s going on?” he asked the first person he saw in a panic. 

Sam looked down at him. “Manberg is here,” the knight replied grimly. “Their army is… larger than expected.” 

“What? Already?” Tubbo could feel his adrenaline spike. He needed to get to Tommy  _ now.  _

“Everyone fall in line!” Sapnap’s voice echoed out over the army, and they formed a rough barrier as one, shields stepping out in front of them and archers stepping behind them. Sam plucked the string of his bow once, before giving Tubbo a small smile and stepping forward with grim determination. 

And then he was gone and Tubbo was alone again, surrounded, heart pounding in his chest as he scrambled through the knights, looking for the green bandana tied around Tommy’s right forearm, desperately searching for the knight in the beat up, hand me down armor. 

Schlatt’s knights were standing in line at the top of the hill, clearly waiting for something. From this distance, Tubbo could see Schlatt himself, could make out the curved and pointed horns atop his head. The dictator struck an imposing figure, backed and haloed by the sun in a sick twist of irony. He looked the part of a conqueror, red and black cape flapping in the light wind.

Tubbo continued on. He found Wilbur before he found Tommy. The knight was standing with Sapnap and Dream, Niki and George between their respective knights. Of the five of them, only Sapnap was on horseback. 

“Where’s Techno?” Wilbur was muttering under his breath. 

“He went with Phil to direct down at the other end of things, relax,” Sapnap muttered back to them. Their eyes were all fixed on a small figure making the hike up the small hill, hands raised in surrender. A diplomat. 

“Okay, good,” Wilbur replied with a sigh. “I predict our wall lasts about twenty minutes at most before we have to break it. I just didn’t expect them to have so many soldiers…” 

“Manberg is strong, but not that strong,” Dream replied. He looked almost disgusted. “I’m assuming Schlatt enlisted some unwilling ‘volunteers’.” 

Niki’s face was equally twisted with disgust. She tugged a bit at her chestplate, resituating it. A long, slender blade lay in her sheath. Tubbo took a moment to reflect on the fact that he’d never actually seen his queen in combat. He adjusted his own armor self consciously. 

“Okay, we’ll try to direct as many soldiers as possible into the fields, keep them in the open areas. If we have to let them through the gates, we try to contain them to the main square, anything to keep them in the open. Don’t let them back you down alleys or streets.” Everyone nodded at Sapnap’s words. 

An echoing laugh rolled over the fields, and then, in one smooth motion, Schlatt whipped out his sword and sliced their diplomat across the throat. 

“No-!” Niki cried in horror as the body slumped, crumpling to the ground. 

Schlatt flicked his hand, almost lazily, and his soldiers were suddenly moving, pounding past him with the loudest battle cry Tubbo had ever heard. It shook him to his very bones. 

Sapnap let out a returning cry, and as one, archers from Traumreich, Pogtopia, and the Arctic Empire fired their first arrows. 

  
Tubbo watched in horror as they hit, some knocking riders from their saddles, others landing true in horses’ legs or flanks or necks. Some foot soldiers took arrows to the arm or legs, some tumbling to their death before ever truly seeing battle. It was beautiful, in a twisted, sick sort of way. 

_ Where’s Tommy? _

“Tubbo, what are you doing here?” Wilbur asked him, yelling to be heard through his helmet as the first wave of Manberg’s soldiers hit their line of shields. He had unsheathed his sword, a thick, deadly looking blade that was worn with years of use. 

“I’m looking for Tommy!” Tubbo cried in response. “Have you seen him?” 

Wilbur shook his head. “No!” 

Tubbo just nodded, saluting the other man and scampering off. 

In the distance he could hear George as they plunged into battle. “For Traumreich!”

The cry was echoed by his people, and they surged forward as one as the shields broke, their primary defense splintering and fracturing into nothing. 

“Pogtopia!” Wilbur and Niki echoed him, and their people called that out in response. 

_ Think, think, think.  _ Tubbo ducked and weaved, unsheathing his sword as he went and stumbling slightly. He’d never been as good of a knight as Tommy, but then again, he’d never wanted to be as good of a knight as Tommy. He was content with standing to the side and supporting, giving the other boy a sparring partner and a pair of ears to talk to, being a friend when no one else gave an effort. He was content with protecting his people and his kingdom and doing good, but that didn’t mean he excelled at it. 

The first Manberg soldier he encountered almost killed him, the tall woman slashing down with a blade almost twice as long as his and doing her best to cleave him in half. Her eyes glinted behind her helmet, swimming with regret and displeasure. 

Tubbo let out a mix between a proper battle cry and a squeak, dodging and weaving her strokes as his adrenaline kicked into gear.  _ Dodge, tire her out, get in close.  _ He’d been playing the short man’s game his entire life, he knew it well by now. Unsurprisingly, patiently waiting for your opponent to make a mistake was a lot more stressful with your life on the line. 

Finally, the woman misstepped, putting too much power into a swing and throwing herself off balance. Tubbo darted in, sinking his sword in between her ribs, right where the plates of her armor connected. He winced at the sound and the red now soaking through his hands. 

The woman died quickly, something akin to relief on her face. Tubbo thought he was going to be sick. 

He scrambled down the line of fighting soldiers, quickly turning from a line to a blob. He slipped in the bloody dirt, painting his armor the color of rust. The metallic smell filled his nose. Sounds of battle surrounded him, the carnage and death seemingly endless. He was just looking, searching for something.  _ There.  _

Tommy stood over the body of a red and black clad knight, his sword buried into their chest, taking heaving gasps of air. He pulled his sword out with a disgusting noise, looking up and locking eyes with Tubbo. 

“Tommy!” Tubbo couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice, scrambling to a stop next to the other boy. 

“Hey, Big T! What are you doing here?” Tommy asked him, grinning a little. There was a splot of blood across his cheek, and his eyes glinted with adrenaline. 

“Looking for you!” Tubbo cried back, attention diverted as a sword swung for his head. He drifted away from Tommy for a moment, focused on staying alive. By the time they drifted back together, Techno was by Tommy’s side as well. 

“Hello-” Techno grunted out. “Duck!” And Tubbo watched in horror as Tommy, standing in front of him, dropped almost completely to the ground and Techno threw an axe over his head. The blade came to a solid stop embedded in the chestplate of another soldier. 

Tommy popped up with a huge grin on his face. “Nice one!” 

Techno just grunted again in acknowledgement. “Don’t get cocky, kid.” 

Tubbo moved closer to Tommy’s side, feeling Techno do the same and forming a little triangle in the middle of the mob. 

“Where’s King Phil?” he called over the noise, struggling to hear anything despite literally touching shoulders with the other two. 

“Somewhere!” Techno called back vaguely. “He can handle himself.” 

“Besides,” Tommy called out, “We’re supposed to be keeping the majority of the soldiers out here in the field, bottleneck them so they can’t flood the kingdom!” He gestured towards the big spruce and iron gates, which not only lead to the castle, but also the main town of Traumreich as well.

“Are they getting in?” Tubbo cried back, a little bit alarmed. He didn’t know how long the fight had been going on, but it didn’t feel like long enough. 

“A couple, yeah. We’re here to make sure no more get the chance to join them, there are still innocent people behind those walls,” Techno called back. “Sapnap, Dream, and a couple of others went in to deal with it.” 

The glint from the sun off metallic armor blinded Tubbo for a moment, and he squinted. A horse was galloping over to them, its rider swinging his sword with practiced grace, cutting through soldiers like paper cards. 

Techno grinned as the horse approached. He was the only one of them not wearing some form of helmet, his tusks too big to fit inside of one. 

The rider slid off of his horse easily, pulling off his helmet and revealing straw blonde hair. 

“Hello, Phil!” Techno wiped his forehead. His hand left bloody smudges across the pink skin. 

“Hello!” Phil greeted them. “We’re all doubling back, regrouping a little closer to the castle gates. We should have enough people to form another defensive line. Meet us when you can, tell anyone you see!” 

Techno nodded at him, his eyes glittering with the heat of the battle. Phil and Tommy mirrored his gaze, and Tubbo looked between the members of the small, broken family. Sometimes it was uncanny, just how similar the three of them were. 

Phil was already stepping back into his saddle, his famous sword held aloft like it weighted nothing. “Don’t have too much fun!” he called back to them. 

“Me? Have too much fun?” Techno let out another laugh. 

Tommy just nodded to his father, who returned the gesture. A moment more and Phil was gone, horse retreating through the dust and the dirt, sword clutched in an iron grip. 

Tubbo returned his attention to the battle at hand.  _ How are there still so many of them?  _ For every Arctic Empire soldier, there had to be at least two from Manberg. He’d thought they had been making progress, but apparently not as much progress as he’d thought they had been making. 

Tommy and Techno were still fighting, hacking away at the closest soldiers. The two of them moved completely in sync, a rhythm Tommy had tried and failed to forget in all of his years training to be a Pogtopian knight. Since he was young, he’d wanted to move like Wilbur, all grace and fast footwork, but in reality, he’d ended up moving like Techno. 

They slashed and cut with reckless abandon, relying on instinct and intuition alone to keep them aloft in the fight, to keep them breathing. Sometimes, they exchanged words without speaking, little gestures and movements, little glances guiding their placement and footwork. It was honestly astounding, to be there watching the two of them. If Tubbo had been on the other side, he would have been terrified. 

“Come on, Tubbo! Join in the fun!” Tommy called over to him, bringing the pommel of his sword down on top of another knight’s head, watching him crumple to the ground. Next to him, Techno wiped the blood from his sword on the fur his cloak, which he was still wearing despite the temperature and physical exertion. 

Tubbo gave him a small smile and hefted his own sword once more, slotting in between the other two and pointing his blade at the nearest knight clad in red and black. 

\-----

Everywhere he looked, George saw chaos. Black and red and blue and green mixed, and more good men and women found death with every passing moment. There were bodies in the streets, some knights, some otherwise. More importantly, these deaths weren’t necessary. They shouldn’t have happened, there was no real justification. He felt bile rise in his throat. 

Dream and Wilbur had whisked him and Niki out of there as soon as the shields broke, Dream murmuring something to him about stopping any knights that got into the village and preventing as many civilian casualties as possible. George wasn’t stupid, he knew it was to keep him safe instead. He’d done his best to protest. 

_ “What gives me more privilege to live than my own people?”  _

_ Dream had snarled at that. “I will not let you die. That is final.”  _

It was of little concern now. They stood in the center of the town’s square, bracketed by trees and bushes, staring the dictator of Manberg right in his red eyes. 

Niki and Wilbur were a ways away, out of sight, helping civilians get to safety, taking out the knights of Manberg who had snuck in with Schlatt and slunk down the various alleys and paths of Traumreich. 

George had felt a flash of fear at the sight of the dictator, but then Dream’s hand was on his wrist, and he was tugging him back, and George let himself feel a little bit safer, his knight wordlessly putting himself between his king and the threat, a silent  _ let me protect you. _

So he’d watched as Dream had stepped in front of him, as he always did, sword already unsheathed and dragging lightly in the dirt as he and Schlatt eyed one another up. His knight’s voice echoed through the small clearing. “If you want him, you’ll have to go through me.” 

That sent a small thrum through him, raw affection. George gripped his own sword a little tighter, but Schlatt just let out a long, chilling laugh. 

“Him?” Schlatt cocked his head, dismounting his own horse. The knights on either side of him stayed put as well, a woman with long white hair and another masked individual. “You think I want him?” 

George could feel the instant doubt and confusion began to seep into Dream, his knight’s entire posture changing. “I- yes? I’d assume?” 

Schlatt shook his head, his blackened locks falling across his face for a moment. “He is of little concern to me right now.  _ You, _ however, intrigue me.” He paused. “Tell me about yourself.” 

George could feel a sudden chill. Something was very wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was yet. 

The battle beyond the gates raged on, almost painfully quiet. It was like the misery and horror had all been tucked away for a moment, leaving nothing except for him, Dream, and Schlatt, in their own little bubble. George saw motion in the corner of his eye and turned slightly, catching a quick glimpse of a dark haired boy in a beanie before Dream spoke again and he turned his attention back to the scene in front of him.

“You want to know about me?” Dream’s voice wavered slightly, his tone not nearly as incredulous as George thought it should be in that moment. 

“Oh yes, very much so,” Schlatt replied, taking a couple of steps closer, a predatory glint in his eye. 

“We’re in the middle of a war,” Dream replied, increasingly more hostile. 

Schlatt’s grin was pointed, his teeth glittering in the sunlight. “Indulge me,  _ Dream.”  _

And Dream had never told Schlatt his name, but the dictator knew it anyway. 

Instead of answering, Dream moved, almost quicker than George could see. The king sucked in a shaky breath, and then the two of them were locked in a clash, blade on blade, only inches apart. His knight and his kingdom’s biggest threat, nose to nose. George could feel his heart quicken.

_ Dream, please be safe.  _ He knew he wouldn’t be. Dream couldn’t be safe if he tried.

“No?” Schlatt cocked his head at Dream, pouting. “Very well, should I tell it then? You may not like my version…” he taunted. 

“Shut up.” Dream bit out, jumping back and charging in again impossibly fast, his blade nothing more than a silver arc in the air, hacking and clawing at Schlatt’s untouchable defense. The other man parted Dream’s hits like they were nothing, like he didn’t even have to try. 

“You were born to Rose and Dimitri of Manberg, nineteen years ago,” Schlatt started, despite the whirlwind that was Dream bearing down on him. “You lived your early childhood in blissful ignorance, enjoying Mommy and Daddy’s wealth and power. You were a spoiled, entitled child.” 

George’s eyes widened slightly. Dream had never mentioned where he was from before, and he had never asked. His memory flickered back to the night Dream had come to the castle. 

_ Hiding behind a nearby tapestry, he saw one of the castle’s cooks ushering a small, blonde boy down the hall, his parents and a large number of other servants right on their heels. The cook was saying something, speaking too quickly and too low to be heard properly, and George’s dad’s face was buried in some sort of note The parchment was ripped and torn, and the red and black seal on the envelope was broken.  _

Red and black, the colors of L’Manberg. 

“Shut up!” Dream repeated, louder. His hits grew more frantic, a frenzy of anger and hatred and fear. 

“You lived in blissful ignorance, until I came along.” Schlatt sounded proud. George felt sick to his stomach. “I took hold of your life, and I broke it in half with my bare hands. I killed your parents, took your castle as my home, and I loved every single second of it.”

George froze. 

Everything clicked into place, and the world seemed to come to a stop around him.

“Shut the  _ fuck  _ up!” Dream screamed. There were tears in his eyes, though from anger or grief, George didn’t know. 

“And who’s going to make me?” Schlatt replied, leaning a little closer. “You? You couldn’t save your own kingdom. You’re not going to be able to save this one. You’re nothing but a scared little prince, running from power you couldn’t possibly hope to understand.” 

Dream looked like the air had been knocked out of him. George felt like the air had been knocked out of him. 

Shakily, his knight raised his sword back up, mask dropping as he shoved his emotions out of the picture, focusing on the man in front of him. And so George did the same, setting his worry and fear and confusion aside as he addressed one problem at a time. 

\-----

Everything had fallen into place perfectly, because of course it had. Quackity had been with Schlatt for years now, The battle raged on outside the gates, and all of the power players were here within Schlatt’s grasp. Niki and Wilbur were the only ones nearby who could pose as any sort of threat, and in the event that they came to play, Puffy could easily handle them. Schlatt had Dream in the palm of his hand, he was just toying with him now. The last loose end was standing, watching Schlatt and Dream circle one another like dogs. His loose end.

His pickaxe dragged lightly on the cobblestone behind him, feeling heavier in his hands now than ever before. George was completely oblivious to his presence, his brown eyes trained on his knight’s figure, nervous energy thrumming through his entire body. 

It would be so easy to just end it, slide his knife across the young king’s throat and send him crumpling to the floor, his entire body limp and lifeless. It would be comically easy to just do it, finish the job like he would finish any other. It would be comically easy, if not for the brown haired boy that he had left behind to be here. 

_ But I know you make the right decisions in the end.  _

Quackity bit his lip, stepping forward as though in a trance. Schlatt looked past Dream, locking eyes with him, and he smiled, the utmost confidence in his executioner’s compliance. The sight twisted his guts into a pretzel. 

As he lost Schlatt’s attention, Dream glanced past himself as well, eyes flaring with raw anger. “George!” 

_ Well crap.  _

George whirled around, locking eyes with Quackity, sword up in a second. “Stay back.” 

Dream was trying to get to him, but Schlatt had twirled the two of them around, and now he stood in between Dream and his king, unyielding. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Quackity blurted out, only half believing himself. He raised his left hand in surrender.

“Oh?” George said, now taking a couple of steps back himself. “Then what’s that for? Going mining?” He nodded at the slightly bloodied pickaxe Quackity was dragging behind himself.

_ Good point.  _

Dream and Schlatt were clashing again behind them, blurring slightly as they both struggled to keep pace with one another. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Quackity corrected himself, slowly setting the pickaxe down on the worn cobble. 

There was the  _ thud  _ of a body hitting the ground behind them. He winced.  _ Ouch.  _

“What are you  _ doing,  _ Quackity?” Schlatt barked from where he stood, hovering over Dream with a maniacal glint in his eyes. The knight lay on the floor, blood matting the back of his head and a slightly dazed look in his eye. The knight shook his head, kicking Schlatt’s legs out from under him and they were sparring again, just as quickly as before. 

Quackity just bit his lip, “The right thing,” he muttered, 

“What was that again?” George said, moving closer now that Quackity was unarmed, 

“I said I’m doing the right thing,” Quackity replied, now moving his right hand up to sit in the air next to his left. “I won’t kill you. He can’t make me.” 

George’s eyes narrowed. “How very gentlemanly of you.” His sword tip came up to rest right above the executioner’s Adam’s apple. Quackity swallowed, throat bobbing as they stood face to face. The king’s eyes were brimming with a cocktail of feeling. To be fair though, the emotional whiplash would probably have crippled anyone else, so he seemed to be doing pretty well, all things considered. 

“Do it,” Quackity hissed at him. “I deserve it.” 

George’s hands were shaking. “Why?”

“Why should you do it, or why do I deserve it?” Quackity asked him.

“Both. Neither.”

“I’d rather be a dead man than a puppet on a stage,” he admitted, a little too truthfully. “Anything has to be better than this life. As for why I deserve it…” he let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t think you need me to tell you that one. Would you like your list in alphabetical or chronological order?”

“Are you really so broken that you have nothing left to live for?” George asked him, hands still shaking, despite Quackity’s life being the one on the line, not his. 

Quackity just sighed. For the longest time, he’d had no reason but for himself, and with time that had even faded. Finally, his thoughts drifted to a boy with brown hair and hazel eyes. “I have one reason,” he finally admitted. 

George studied him with curious eyes. “One reason’s all you need.”

“I would live for him if I thought I could make his life better in any way,” Quackity replied. “Kill me. It’ll make  _ your  _ life better, at least.” 

He closed his eyes, expecting the piercing kiss of cold metal against his skin, but when he opened them again, George had lowered his sword. 

“Get out of here,” George said, his tone gentle. In that moment, he sounded more kingly than Schlatt ever had, with his powerful booming voice and barked orders.

“You’re making a mistake,” Quackity said warily. “No one in their right mind would let me go after everything I did.”

George just let out a small laugh, a mixture of a chirp and a giggle, and Quackity could suddenly understand why Dream had fought so hard to keep him safe, thrown himself out on the line to protect him, shoved himself in between George and  _ Schlatt,  _ of all people. The knight hadn’t even given it a second thought. He understood that Dream was living for George, to keep George by his side. And based on the way the king looked at his knight, George was living for Dream too. 

_ One reason’s all you need. _

“Call me naive if you will, I’ve heard it all before. Chalk it up to the new job,” George replied with a wink. “I’m not very good at it yet.” 

Quackity let out his own disbelieving chuckle. “You’re getting better,” he replied breathlessly.

“And you’re getting out of here.” 

Quackity nodded, stooping down to grab his pickaxe and backing away. 

“Go find that reason of yours,” George advised him. 

“Thanks,” he replied, more genuinely than he’d allowed himself to sound in years. “Make sure you get to keep yours. He’s too pretty to die.” 

George let out that same, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah,” he agreed, eyes already trained back on his bruised and battered knight. “Yeah, he is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been a long time in the making. As we reach the end of this fic, I get to write out the scenes I planned from the beginning, the ones that sparked this entire fic idea. We're not quite there yet, but I hope the payoff is worth it. (I really really hope!! 47k words is a long time to go with no payoff!) 
> 
> If you liked it, if you hated it, if you're sobbing over it, if you laughed at the character's pain, please write me a comment! I love to hear your thoughts and I answer pretty much any extra special questions you have so long as they don't spoil immediate plot! :D
> 
> Stay safe out there <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! It's been a bit, sorry about that. Anywho, I poured a little bit of my heart and soul into writing this fic, so I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter. Stick around at the end for a little special note. :)

Every single inch of Dream’s body ached with a dull, throbbing pain. His legs and arms were scraped from where he’d fallen on the stone, and there were small slashes on both of his hands. The warm blood dripped and pooled in the creases of his skin, making his grip on his sword slippery. His helmet had been long discarded, and the tips of his sweaty hair were dangling in his eyes. He tossed his head to get the strands out of the way, letting out a small huff. 

“What, tired already?” Schlatt taunted him. He looked almost pristine, perfect, untouched. Not a hair out of place. Dream hated it. 

“You wish,” he hissed back, doing his best to circle Schlatt. His attempts were met with a smirk and a swipe from the man’s long sword. 

“It won’t be that easy,” Schlatt informed him, surely watching as Dream’s eyes flicked back to George again, fear clouding his judgement. His king had the Butcher at swordpoint right now, but Dream saw the barely perceivable shake of his hand, as well as the desperate, caged look in Schlatt’s executioner’s eye. 

He gritted his teeth, focusing on his fight again, pushing his full energy into it. A tiny bead of blood welled up on Schlatt’s cheek, pouring over and streaking down it, catching in his beard. 

“I despise you,” Schlatt hissed as they clashed once more, spit dribbling from the corners of his lips and a mad look in his eyes. “You’re the one loose thread I couldn’t pull. You represent everything I wanted to squash in my people.” 

Dream snorted, a trickle of blood dripping down his face. “What, hope?” 

“It is where I’m concerned,” Schlatt replied, gritting his teeth and swiping again. “Lost little prince, you’re so fucking entitled. You don’t deserve shit.” 

“Neither do you!” 

“Me?” Schlatt’s sword cut his arm, more blood flowing freely from the wound. “I deserve everything I ever took. I fought tooth and nail and I deserve every single  _ moment  _ of it.” 

A feathery arrow flew through the air, embedding itself in Schlatt’s shoulder. The dictator howled, whirling around and spotting-

_ George.  _ Relief made itself at home in Dream’s heart as he realized Quackity was nowhere to be seen. It was only George, standing there with his head held high and his lips in a tight line, already moving to nock another arrow. 

With a growl, Schlatt redoubled his efforts, and Dream stumbled back, his line of sight on George breaking as he moved to combat the dictator’s sudden burst of speed. 

“Someone just kill him already!” Schlatt barked at his guards, who had been standing motionless off to the side up until this point. 

“No!” Dream howled in response, horror clutching at his chest, but George’s cry never came, only more blue feathered arrows, one after another. They streaked through the air, landing in Schlatt’s bicep, back, and calf. Blood trickled steadily around the wounds, staining the ground with drops of red. 

Schlatt’s knees buckled and he hit the ground, panting heavily. He looked up at Dream, his eyes burning with hatred. “What,” he spat out, around globular blood, “What are you looking at, little prince?” 

Dream leveled his gaze at the other man and slashed, his sword cleanly decapitating Manberg’s dictator. The body slumped to the ground in front of him, and just like that, it was all over. 

Everything hit him like a brick, and Dream sank to his own knees, kneeling in front of Schlatt’s body with tears streaking down his cheeks. The salty wetness mixed with the blood and dust covering his body from head to toe. He felt a soft touch on his shoulder, nothing more than a gentle pressure. 

“Not a prince,” George corrected the headless dictator, “A king.” 

Dream looked up at him, at his king. 

“Hey,” George just murmured, sinking down to Dream’s level and touching his cheek. “You’re okay, Dream. He’s gone.”

Dream just dissolved, shaking as he sobbed into George’s shoulder. “You hate me,” he managed to sniffle out between the cries, but George just shook his head and carded his fingers through Dream’s hair. 

“No.” 

“I hid so much from you,” Dream protested. 

George hummed thoughtfully. “And I’ll kick your ass for that later. Now is not the time. You hid it from everyone. It’s not exactly something you can publicise.” 

Dream sniffed, painfully aware that he was bleeding and sobbing all over George’s shoulder. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.” 

“Well, I figured out what was more important to me,” George replied. 

Dream looked up at him through teary lashes, but the king just laughed and scratched at his scalp for a moment. Dream felt himself melt into the touch, a deep rumble catching in his throat. 

“It’s you, dummy. You’re what’s most important to me. I don’t care if you’re secretly half enderman, it wouldn’t make me love you any less.”

Dream’s eyes widened only second’s before George’s did, realizing exactly what he said. “Oh,” the blonde whispered, dumbstruck. 

“You really still think that even after all that, I would hate you?” George asked him, his cheeks now flushed to match Dream’s. 

Dream made a noncommittal noise, glancing down. 

George’s finger tilted his chin up. “Well,” the young king whispered, leaning close enough for their breathing to mingle, “Would someone who hated you do this?” 

Dream opened his mouth to respond, confused, but then George’s lips were on his and he was absolutely lost, mind blanking as his mind went haywire. He gasped against the older’s lips for a moment before pulling him impossibly closer, grabbing for whatever of him he could reach, struggling to hold him in his arms, wanting to savor every second he spent with George’s frame pressed against his own. 

It was horribly, addictingly enchanting. George slotted so nicely against him, like he was always meant to be.  _ Of course he was.  _ Dream smiled into the kiss, feeling his king do the same. 

“What?” George mumbled, barely disconnecting their lips long enough to get the word out before Dream had pushed forward and reconnected them _. “Dream,” _ he groaned, but Dream could feel the brunet’s smile still pressed against his own. 

“Not now,” he managed to get out between kisses. “Later.” 

“Dream!” George said, wrenching away from him. Dream felt a piece of his heart go with the other boy, retreating five horrible, painful inches apart. 

“What, George?” Dream groaned, trying to lean in again, but George smashed a finger against his lips, and he frowned, sitting fully back on his haunches and taking a moment to admire the brown eyed king. George’s face was flushed a bright red and his pupils were blown wide. His lips were slightly puffy and red, and even as Dream looked, he took the bottom one between his teeth and bit down nervously. 

“We’re being watched,” George muttered, nodding behind him.    
  
Dream whirled around to see Puffy standing there, inspecting the armor on her horse incredibly closely. “Jeez, George!” He had scrambled to his feet in an instant, grabbing for his sword. 

Puffy was already backing away, hands in the air. “Woah, woah, woah, hey now. That’s not fair, I didn’t even try to kill you while you were making out.” 

“Dream, no!” George jumped up as well. “She went out of her way to specifically not kill me!” 

Puffy offered them a tense smile as well. “Killed the people who were trying to kill you too. No biggie.” She turned to face Dream then, a host of different emotions flashing across her face. “Hey there Duckling. Long time no see. You’ve grown so much.” 

Dream stared at her for a moment, and then everything clicked. He was running at her before he even knew what he was doing, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tight. 

\-----

Everything didn’t snap back to normal, but there was a definite slide. The fighting outside stopped shortly after Schlatt was announced dead, most of Manberg’s army put down their weapons and shields and raised their palms to the sky. Tubbo and Tommy and Techno sat in the middle of the wreckage and hugged one another and cried. None of them brought it up again. 

Wilbur and Niki found a way to dispose of Schlatt’s body stealthily. They had been the first to find Dream and George and Puffy, after everything had ended. The two of them had just shared a look, and gotten to work with an efficiency that made George a little suspicious they’d had to deal with a situation like this before. He didn’t pry. 

As for the arranged marriage, it was called off within hours of Schlatt’s death. Both George and Niki agreed it wouldn’t be necessary, and they both gladly shed that weight from their shoulders with bright smiles and a tight hug. There was a silent agreement they would stay close, of course, and stay in contact as well. Niki whispered something in George’s ear while they hugged and he blushed a furious shade of red. Dream stood on the sidelines, foot tapping with nervous energy. 

Quackity and Karl disappeared. At least, that’s how it seemed to the general eye. The noble and his mysterious friend packed up and disappeared without a trace, just the meager belongings they had brought to Traumreich and the clothing on their backs. In time they may find another, but for now the two of them were enough. 

Quackity woke up in the mornings and appreciated life not only for Karl, but for himself as well. He still took Techno’s pickaxe with him everywhere he went, but he carried it differently now, with a sort of reverence, not regret. Some days, he spent the entire morning out in the forest, walking by Karl’s side and taking in the world and appreciating it for what it was. He began to heal. 

Dream gave his speech to the people of Manberg a week after Schlatt’s death. He shuffled nervously and straightened his clothing and combed through his hair until it was a fluffy mess and George reached out to grasp his wrist with slender fingers. “You’ll be fine,” the brunet told him firmly, pressing a small kiss to the top of Dream’s hand, and then shoved the stuttering king onstage in front of all of his people with a smile and a laugh. 

“Uh, hello there!” Dream started his speech. “Some of you may know of me, some of you… won’t. Some of you may have only heard of me in stories, but, uh,” he adjusted his crown once more and looked out over his people’s distrustful and wary faces. “I’m Dream. King Dream, if you’ll have me, I suppose. The lost prince.” He smiled awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.” 

The rest of his speech was met with positives and negatives and everything in between. Dream thought it went pretty well. As soon as he finished he had fled and all but collapsed into George’s arms, picking the smaller up and twirling him around. 

Phil went back to the Arctic Empire a week after that, taking Techno and Ranboo with him, along with a promise from Tommy to visit. He and his soldiers packed up and left Traumreich early in the morning, departing before dawn. George, Niki, Wilbur, and Dream saw them off. Tommy was still fast asleep, curled up next to Tubbo on one of the castle’s many oversized couches. 

Dream appointed Puffy as his personal knight in an official ceremony later that day. The knight knelt before him and cried, and he matched her tear for tear, weeping over the loss of his parents, the loss of his childhood, the loss of all the years they could have shared if not for Schlatt. 

George didn’t take on a new knight, for now. When the people asked him, he merely grabbed Dream’s hand in a tight grip and dragged him to his chambers, closing the door behind them. 

It was there that the two of them sat, bodies intertwined and basking in the comfort of one another. George could feel Dream’s heartbeat, thumping softly underneath his hand as he kissed him slowly. 

“So you’re done pushing me away?” Dream murmured into his mouth, hands fluttering from George’s jaw to his hips and back up again to thread softly in the brunet’s hair. 

George pulled back with a small smile. “Life’s too short to push you away. If I had waited any longer, I might not have gotten any of you at all.” 

Dream laughed against his lips, a little breathy sound that George just wanted to devour. “If I knew a near death experience was all I had to do to get you to kiss me, I would have told you who I was  _ ages  _ ago. Would’ve sped this whole thing up.” 

George laughed back, if only at the absurdity of the situation. “No, you wouldn’t have,” he whispered back, lips ghosting across his knight’s jawline. 

Dream leaned in to recapture his lips with his own. “You’re right,” he admitted softly, “I wouldn’t have.”

\-----

Niki was the last one to leave Traumreich. She had sent the rest of her people home to Pogtopia, except for her small escort, but she had wanted to stick around for a couple of reasons. For one, she had to publicly announce the annulment of her marriage. That wasn’t fun. The people had booed and grumbled angrily, and she’d gotten more than one nasty look from George’s people, who had been so hopeful to have a queen again after so long. 

For another, the streets of Traumreich, as well as the surrounding area, were absolutely trashed. It was only fair of her to stick around and help George out with whatever she could, as a show of her thanks. Without his help, her people would have likely been slaughtered. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if that had happened, as a result of her inability to keep them safe. She would always put her people first, no matter what that meant for her. 

Which was part of the reason she let Jack Manifold speak in the first place, let him offer the option of an arranged marriage. George’s advisors were old fashioned, they wouldn’t let a thing as big as siding with Pogtopia in a war slip through their fingers without getting their hands on some of the kingdom’s wealth. She knew that, and she had come to terms with the fact that she was going to have to do something she didn’t want to, to keep her people safe. 

Until she came to Traumreich, and found her soon to be husband hopelessly in love with his knight. She had suddenly felt so much guiltier about her impending marriage to George, when she realized that he lost more by agreeing than he did by just turning her down. He’d had so much to lose that she almost didn’t believe he’d agreed to marry her. (Of course he did, that’s just the kind of person he was.)

But now, with the two of them free to do what they pleased, George had some business that he should attend to, and she was going to be there for moral support whether he wanted her there or not. Besides, she was fairly confident that he wanted her there. So she sat off to the side in Traumreich’s main hall, waiting for her third reason for sticking around to play out. So far, it was horribly slow going, but that wasn’t exactly George’s fault. 

“You know…” George offered up, glancing casually over at Dream, “Traumreich might benefit more from a slightly more… strategic alliance.” 

Dream looked over at him, eyes glowing in the sunlight. NIki’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them, watching for that spark of recognition in Dream’s eyes. So far they remained painfully confused. 

“Not to mention how useful this alliance would be to L’manberg, what with their recovering economy and recent overthrow of their dictator,” George continued to hint, shooting Niki a small, disbelieving grin.  _ Help me out here,  _ his eyes seemed to scream. 

“That is a good point,” she agreed, directing Dream’s attention back to her. “And Traumreich would certainly benefit from gaining an ally they felt they already knew…” 

Dream cocked his head slightly to the side, and George loved him but  _ damn  _ was he oblivious sometimes. “But Traumreich is already allied with Pogtopia,” Dream said.

“Not quite yet allied,” George replied. “Not officially. Besides, I’m sure Pogtopia and Traumreich can continue to be close trade partners and work out some kind of other agreement, I’m talking about a  _ traditional alliance.”  _

Niki would have paid good money to see the look of realization on Dream’s face as George’s words dawned on him recreated as artwork. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped for only a moment, and then he surged forward, grabbing George’s hands in his own. 

“You’re kidding,” he breathed out, studying George’s face like he was trying to commit it to memory. 

“Yes, Dream,” George replied dryly, “I called you here, in front of my ex betrothed to joke around with you about the rest of our lives. That sounds like something I would do.” 

“God,” Dream muttered, cupping George’s cheeks. “You’re such an  _ idiot.  _ I can’t believe you said I love you first  _ and  _ you proposed first.” 

George let out a breathy laugh. “I mean, to be fair, you say I love you all the time, it’s like the word has no real meaning for you anymore-” 

And then the two of them were kissing, and Niki was respectfully averting her eyes, a huge grin on her face.  _ Good for them. It’s about time.  _ George shot her a thumbs up from behind Dream’s back, and she giggled a little bit too loudly. 

\-----

Dream and George stood in front of the floor length mirror in Dream’s room, awkwardly adjusting their respective clothing and generally giving themselves final once overs. Every now and then, George would feel Dream’s hands skim over his skin, feathery light touches with more weight than he could explain. 

“How do you think they’ll take it?” Dream asked him, holding a golden crown in his hands, twirling it lightly. It looked strange to hold a crown. Not a bad strange, just different. 

George hummed to himself. They were announcing their alliance today, officially, to the people of Traumreich. “Some will take it well. Some will reject it. Some won’t care. Same as usual. Why, having second thoughts?” His tone was light, but he looked up at Dream nervously. 

The blonde just chuckled, pulling him a little closer to himself and pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Never,” he breathed out. “I love you so much.” 

George was trailing his hands along the red and black trim on his tunic with a small frown. 

“What is it?” Dream asked him, reaching down to envelop George’s hands in his own. 

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” the shorter mumbled, tearing his gaze away from the fabric. 

“It’s not stupid if it involves you,” Dream urged, “Tell me.” 

“It’s just a shame,” George murmured, running his hands over Dream’s red and black uniform. “I liked you in blue…”

“And why is that?” Dream replied, amusement flickering within him.

George’s eyes flicked up to meet his, a deep blush on his cheeks. “Because you looked like you were mine,” he murmured. 

“Oh, Sunshine,” Dream cupped his hands around George’s cheeks, smiling down at him. “I’ll always be yours. You’ll always be mine. No flag is ever going to stop that.” He resisted the urge to press another kiss to George’s face. If he started that now, the two of them may never get to making their announcement. “Now come on, let’s go make sure that all of your people know that too, okay?” 

George just grinned up at him, sounding horribly, sickeningly in love when he whispered, “God, you’re such an idiot.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, huh? Usually, I have so much to say about the end of a work, but right now I'm kind of at a loss for words. You guys have been so amazing throughout the course of this entire journey, endlessly supportive, and all around just incredible people. I literally couldn't have done it without you guys. So a thank you to everyone who's ever kudosed, commented on, or even just clicked on this fic. You guys mean the world to me, even if you don't realize it. I hope you're all staying safe out there in this crazy world, and you drink some water. <3
> 
> As for what comes next, I do have more I want to write for this world, a sort of a sequel, if you will, but I'm not sure if you guys would be interested in it. It would be more centered on the interpersonal relationships, with lower stakes, but I have ideas for where I see all of those people. Who knows, I don't want to make any promises, but I do love this dumb little world I created, and would like to stick around in it for a bit. (Maybe write some more DNF fluff lol.) 
> 
> I'm currently writing another DNF fic, called 404: Memorynotfound. It's kind of been on the backburner recently, second to this and the angsty 7 days till sunlight, but now that this has (temporarily?) wrapped up, that'll be my main focus! So if you guys want to stick around my writing in a world that's not this one, that's probably where you can find me! 
> 
> If you read through all of this, you're awesome, and I hope you're having a great day/night/whatever! <3
> 
> -Ginger

**Author's Note:**

> I really really hope you enjoyed! I've spent the last couple of days hashing out the plot and the backstory to this and I've been super excited to share it with all of you! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the work/chat with you through comments if you have any, and I hope you are all having a lovely day! :)
> 
> note- some people may be a little OOC until I settle into their characters, some characters may be OOC because of other reasons, I'll do my best to make everyone seem like themselves from the SMP even with their newfound motives here in this world! :)


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